The Lycanthrope Registry
by Creaky.Cauldron
Summary: <html><head></head>When Ted is forced by the Ministry to sign the Lycanthrope Register as a category three werewolf his life falls apart. With poor prospects and no future, Ted is forced down a path he never would have considered.</html>
1. The Ministry

**This will be a 20-chapter story about Teds first year after Hogwarts. Mostly written with editing done when I have the time! so hopefully chapters will be up fairly quickly. Reviews are very much appreciated. **

Ted was exhausted. His bones ached, his head was swimming and the skin on his arms was raw. Despite wearing a thick woolen jumper to bed he had picked and scratched at his forearms during the night. The jumper itched and tugged at the raised skin, a constant reminder of his own failures.

He manoeuvred himself out of bed and peeled his clothes off carefully. His stomach too was scratched and sore, but only his arms were bloody and swollen where he had digged his fingernails in most harshly. Sighing heavily, Ted dragged himself into the shower and mentally prepared himself for the stinging pain that would follow.

The full moon had always been rough for him, but as he grew older it only seemed to worsen. Although not technically a werewolf he responded badly to the lunar cycle. Anxiety, depression, insomnia. On the nights he did sleep he had awful nightmares, every deeply buried fear and insecurity haunted him through dark. The nights he didn't sleep Ted bit and scratched at himself until he bled, never realising he had done so until he would see the results in the clarity that came with the sunrise.

It was a ghastly habit he'd have hoped to have grown out of by now. As a child he had attended St Mungo's eighteen times before his fifth birthday. Every time the healers and 'specialists' had told his Grandmother the same thing over and over - it would get better. When?

The night before had been a particularly bad one, the worst since he had been fifteen and sitting his OWL exams. He didn't like to think about that night much. The added anxiety of the moon had induced what he could only describe as a meltdown, sobbing in an abandoned classroom with Victoire. The resulting panic attack had terrified her as much as it had him, but at least she forgave him much sooner than he had forgiven himself.

It was the first night home at his Grandmother's. The day before he had sat through the graduation ceremony at Hogwarts with a fixed fake smile on his face attempting to hide the panic rising inside his chest. His family and friends who had congratulated him on his success had all asked the same question: What was next? He'd woken every few hours through the night with the same question, the same reoccurring thought, reminded that in the morning he had no idea what he was going to do with his life. He would get up, eat breakfast shower and then...what?

Whilst his friends were applying for jobs at the Ministry Ted had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. This was not an easy concept for him, he had always had to know what was next and had always had a backup plan. He had hoped he'd been able to come up with something by now, every day of his education had been counting down to the day he could start a career, earn some money and make a name for himself. But doing what? He had no focus, no lifelong dream to fall back on.

Deciding he had put the day off long enough he dried himself carefully and dressed for breakfast. His arms felt better now that they had been washed with the clean water, but they were still swollen and sore. Dragging himself down the stairs and taking a glance through the window at the back garden he thought bitterly that the day was too beautiful for his anxious and miserable state. He could see his Grandmother tending to the vegetable patch she had so lovingly raised, a hobby of his Grandfathers she had kept up since his death. A living tribute to his memory. Ted watched her through the window as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. A moment later she saw him and waved. He forced a smile in return.

One thing at a time, he decided, facing the reality of his day. He sat at the kitchen table, staring at his cereal bowl. He wondered how long he could stretch out washing it. Two minutes, maybe, if he was meticulous? He wondered what else in the kitchen he could wash, what jobs he could do to keep his mind busy. There was always a job to be done, he could ask his Grandmother…

Andromeda entered the kitchen, her knees and hands covered in soil and clutching a basket of freshly plucked broad beans. She kissed his cheek, he knew how happy she was to have him home, and how lonely she was in the big house without him. She told him every time he returned, he supposed it was to make him feel welcomed and loved. It only made him feel guilty for leaving.

"Hello Darling." She began to wash the dirt from the vegetables. "What have you got planned for the day?"

Trying to contain a freak-out, he thought, but shrugged at her vaguely instead. What she was really asking was 'what did he have scheduled for the rest of his life?' He hadn't communicated his anxiety over his lack of plans and she and Harry had both been patient, if a little concerned, that he was yet to reveal what they probably thought was some grand master plan.

"I thought I might go see the kids," he decided aloud. The chaos that came with visiting the three Potter children would distract him for a few hours until night fell and he was forced to deal with the full moon again. Night one of three, he reminded himself. This time tomorrow he would be nearly done for another month.

Ted was not normally an anxious person, nor was he angry or irritable. But when he hit his 'time of the month', as Victoire he had taken to calling it, the three days in the lunar cycle when the moon was full and he was bothered the most. Whatever emotion he was feeling was amplified ten-fold, and it brought out an ugly side to Ted.

The first few months he and Victoire had started dating he had been a ball of nervous energy, happier than he had ever been in his life. The first Moon he had bounced around his room, crying and laughing hysterically. Worried that he was going to seriously hurt himself Harry had been forced to knock him out with a sleeping draft, something they had always agreed should not be an option due to the lethargic effect it tended to have on him for days after. He remembered very little of that cycle, only a hazy memory of being sick and sleeping through the day. They'd not tried that method again since.

A brown postal owl flew through the open window, paused for a second on the kitchen table for Andromeda to untie the bundle of letters around its leg and left quickly. Ted felt a tug at that. In one week the post would come carrying with it his NEWT results and then that would be it, he would be forced to decide on a path. He felt his chest tighten and his mouth become dry, the panic threatening to control him. He looked towards the open window at the wide open space and the beautiful day outside and forced himself to take several deep breaths, trying to remember the strategies Victoire had researched. It didn't help.

"Hmm." Andromeda was turning an envelope over in her hands, staring at the seal on the back. "Teddy, you've got a letter here."

It bore the stamp and seal of the Ministry of Magic. He stared at it, confused. Teddy hadn't applied for any jobs at the Ministry and it wasn't normal to receive a letter of congratulations after graduation. She passed him it eagerly.

Ted slipped a finger between the fold until the seal snapped. The parchment inside was pristine. The top right corner help the stamp for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and he read over it once, Andromeda appeared interested and hopeful at his shoulder.

"What the hell…" Ted turned the short letter over. "Dear Mr. Lupin," he read, "Congratulations on your recent graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am writing to inform you that you are due to register with this Department in regards to your condition (lycanthropy) and request that you immediately attend a meeting...Gran...?"

Andromeda snatched the letter from him, reading it aloud herself. Ted's breathing had become short. He wasn't a werewolf, why was he being called to register? He had been lucky, he knew, not to have inherited the condition. He suffered terribly from the cycle but he had never made the full transformation. And for all his mood changes he was never violent to anyone but himself.

"This is nonsense!" Andromeda snapped. "This must be a mistake. I'm going to call Harry."

Before he could respond, to tell her not to bother, she was gone, yelling into the fireplace for Harry's office at the Ministry. He knew it'd get through, their fireplace was one of the few direct links approved to the Auror office.

An hour later Ted was sat in the office for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creature: 'Beast' division. Despite werewolves technically being classed as 'beings' for the majority of the month it was this department that dealt with registration.

He had dressed in his finest robes, hair turned a boring but professional brown and shorter than he normally wore it. Andromeda sat beside him, seething, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Where there was normally a soft loveliness to her, today she appeared sharp. Ted had seen pictures of the woman who had killed his mother, Bellatrix Black, and had previously refused to see a likeness to his Grandmother but in this light, this situation, it was not hard to acknowledge the resemblance. He swallowed the lump in his throat and stared straight ahead, not wanting to see.

Harry came storming down the hall and into the waiting area, his normally easy going and relaxed features set in anger. Ted wasn't used to seeing him like that and apparently the Ministry workers who greeted him cheerfully weren't either. He ignored them entirely, his eyes set on his Godson. This was the last thing dark wizards saw, Ted imagined, just before they were cursed into oblivion or carted off to Azkaban.

Immediately Harry settled into the seat beside him and his face softened in concern. Gently he placed a flat palm onto Ted's wrist where he had been pulling at the skin with his fingernails without realising, a too familiar habit these days, and pulled from his pocket a clean handkerchief which he pressed onto the bloodied skin. Harry didn't say anything, he knew and understood that when the full moon blossomed Ted was rarely aware of his own actions, and never once had he been punished or accused doing it for attention.

Awkwardly, Ted pulled the cuff of his jacket down over the wound to hide it from anyone who might see. The last thing he needed was the Ministry to see how affected he was by the moon and assume he was the werewolf they suspected him to be. The blood flecked at the cuff edge.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ted started, his voice strangled and high. He swallowed. "I know you were working-"

He was cut off. "Nothing is too important that it comes before you, Ted." He smiled, but it was tight, and it was easy to spot the worry beneath it. "We'll get this sorted out."

Ted nodded, unable to speak. This was not how he imagined his first day in the adult world to be.

A harassed looking woman with hair falling from the bun on top of her head glanced up from her desk. "Lupin," she announced. When Ted took a few seconds too long to rise, she glared irritably at the small crowd. "Lupin."

"Y-yes." Ted approached her, grateful for Andromeda and Harry two steps behind him.

"Meeting room four," she said, moving his file from one pile to another. It seemed an endless job. When the adults made to follow, she held out a hand to stop them. "The registry is to go alone, please."

Ted looked back at them desperately. Harry looked between him and the receptionist. There was no getting around it, the woman explained he was a legal of-age wizard and therefore responsible for his own registration.

Harry nodded to him, but he looked furious. "We'll be right here, Ted. We'll be right outside. Go and explain."

Even though he knew he was of legal age and should be responsible for his own future, Ted didn't feel like an adult at all. As he shuffled down the corridor he had to remind himself to hold his head high. He was eighteen. He was not a coward. He was the son of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, two of the greatest heroes of their time.

He felt like a frightened four year old.

Meeting room four was a closet of a room with a single desk with two chairs either side of it. He waited for several minutes, shifting from foot to foot, glancing between the chairs and the door. Should he sit? He sat, shuffling in his seat.

It took a full twelve minutes for the registrations officer to arrive, during which time Ted had listened to his own laboured breathing and succeeded in not throwing up. The man clutched a sheaf of documents and a quill, but nothing else. The parchment scattered across the desk as he sat but they didn't appear to be in any particular order to begin with. He was short, scruffy and bald. He took a second to rearrange the papers before addressing the younger man.

"Edward Remus Lupin?" He asked, marking off the name with his quill before Ted could respond.

He nodded, but the man wasn't watching. "Father Remus John Lupin and mother Nym...Nime…"

Ted interrupted helpfully, "Nymphadora Tonks. Excuse me, but I think there's been a mistake…"

The officer waved a hand, having heard it all before. "State your date of birth and place of residence."

Ted did so. "But I'm not a werewolf," he added. "I don't know why I'm here."

The man glanced at his files. "You are the son of Remus John Lupin, registered werewolf?"

"Well, yes, but-"

The man simply stared at him and in the silence, as though that settled the matter, and Ted took the opportunity to continue talking. "My Dad was a werewolf, but I'm not." More silence. Ted persisted. "I don't transform at the full moon," he pointed out obviously.

The man rolled his eyes and began to scribble onto the parchment. Ted, sure the matter had been resolved, let out the breath he had been holding whilst watching him and relaxed back in his seat. Perhaps it was going to be okay after all.

"Regardless, Mr. Lupin," he said. "Of whether you transform fully at the full moon or not, you are considered to be a category three lycanthrope and should be kept under observation." He scribbled something else on the papers.

"I don't understand," Ted began. "Category three?"

He sighed irritably, "Category one: lycanthrope from birth. Category two: lycanthrope due to infection." The little man stared straight into his eyes. "Category three: carrying the bloodline, shows some symptoms at the moon" - his eyes flicked to Ted's wrists and he hid them guiltily under his arms - "and therefore should be kept under observation." He shuffled the papers under his arm. "Please keep us informed of any changes in employment, address or marital status, Mr. Lupin." He stood, and Ted followed obediently. "We strongly suggest you don't mate with another carrier and please alert your future employers of your condition. Not doing so will gain you at best a hefty fine and at worst imprisonment. You can pick up your documents at the front desk, Imelda will be preparing them for you now."

He opened the door to let the younger man out, but Ted stood his ground. This wasn't how it was meant to go! He wasn't leaving. His legs couldn't move if he wanted them to. "That's it?" he managed. "You're just putting me on the register? I'm not even a werewolf!"

"A leaflet will be provided alongside your documents explaining the policies and relevant legislation that apply to you, Mr. Lupin."

His head was fuzzy. A leaflet? The biggest decision of his life would be explained with a leaflet? He felt the need to growl as he passed the registration officer but felt that it wouldn't help his 'I'm not an animal' case. He felt sick as he shuffled into the lobby but noticed with satisfaction that his Grandmother was screaming at the terrified receptionist who was now being reinforced by two Ministry workers. Normally, he'd have sympathised with the woman, but not today. Harry's mouth was set into a grim line, not disagreeing or stopping the woman but still trying to remain professional. It would have mattered, Andromeda was doing all the necessary talking and was doing a fine job of arguing his case.

When Ted approached she ceased her yelling and they looked to him for confirmation that all was sorted. Not knowing what to tell them or how he could explain he looked towards the silent receptionist who extended a shaking hand. He took the documents and aforementioned leaflet and walked numbly towards the exit. He needed to be as far away from the office, from those people, as possible.

The hallway was too long, too stuffy. The anxiety Ted had been feeling since the night before spilled over in a rush of panic. The jobs and careers he could no longer pursue muddled in his brain - no one would hire him when he was on the werewolf register, regardless of the category. He thought of his father, bouncing from job to job, struggling to make ends meet. And Victoire! How foolish he had been to enter a relationship with her without thinking of his father's affliction. The advice the registration officer had given him rattled through his thoughts, "we strongly suggest you don't mate with another carrier". He knew her father was affected by the full moon and still he had never connected the dots, never considered that the life they had planned together would not be possible.

His chest was on fire, his breathing short, his vision constricted and dark. He searched desperately for an exit, turned on the spot to apparate but nothing happened.

And then Harry was there, pinning him in place, his eyes on his to center him. "Ted," he said calmly, but it sounded far away and fuzzy. "Ted, deep breaths. Look at me. Deep breaths." A hand was placed on the back of his head, reassuring and cool to his sweating skin.

Ted did was he was told, but the breaths were strangled and forced. He looked towards his Godfather through blurry eyes and he realised he was crying. Ted did the only thing he could think of and leant towards him. Harry, easily six inches shorter than him, took him in his arms and let him cry like he had done when he was a child.

"We'll get it sorted. It'll be okay." He consoled him and Ted felt the panic beginning to subside. He was starting to breath again and he gulped in air, his heart beginning to slow but his hands still shaking. "It's going to be okay," Harry said again as Ted rocked forward, feeling foolish but needing the comfort all the same.

How? He kept repeating to himself. How could this possibly be okay?

…..

The letter was smoothed out on Hermiones desk, creased and torn from where Ted had pressed it into his palm. As one they ignored the small fingerprints dotting the page with blood in the corner, carried over from the open wounds up his forearm.

They'd caught Hermione on her lunch break, and they sat waiting for her opinion as she read and re-read the document first, and then the letter that accompanied it, barely glancing at the worthless leaflet.

Ted clutched a sugary cup of tea between his hands and focused on not passing out. They had all assured him that it would be a great help.

"Well it's legal, but entirely unjust," she finally said, her nose scrunched. "You're category three regulated, which in a legal point of view means you're of no harm to anyone, but honestly people just see 'Lycanthropy' and are likely to dismiss you without further explanation." She smiled sympathetically at Ted, who tried to return it shakily. "I'm sorry this happened to you, Teddy. We tried to fight the registry years ago, but the war didn't exactly help peoples views of werewolves." She slid the papers across the table towards him and picked up the leaflet. "You're the first case I've heard of in twenty years that's been placed on the registry without actually having the disease, often the child of a werewolf has the disease as well."

That caught his attention. "I'm the first in twenty years?" he said, his voice sounding unlike his own. "How is that possible?"

Hermione shrugged. "I suspect your mother had a lot to do with it, being a metamorphmagus. We don't really understand the condition and how it works, but it's fascinating really-"

Harry held up a hand to stop her before she continued down another "it's fascinating really" train of thought and wouldn't stop talking for an hour, as she was so prone to do. "How can we get Teddy off the register?" he asked.

She shook her head sadly. "There's no short-term solution or loophole, I'm afraid. We can fight it in court, but that will take months, and it's not a sure thing we'll win." She smiled at him again reassuringly. "Of course if you want me to I'll represent you in court. I can get the proceedings started this afternoon."

Ted appreciated that, knowing how busy Hermione was. He did his best to look grateful, but he wasn't sure how appreciative he appeared when all he could think was that his life was falling apart around him.

With the promise that he would keep her updated with any more developments they thanked Hermione and left. The group was silent as they approached the lobby of the Ministry. He knew Harry had wasted the morning to accompany him and no doubt his Grandmother was considering cancelling her shift at the hospital as well. He didn't want to take up any more of their time with an impossible task. He could hear them whispering behind him, Harry was insisting he could take the day off for her to make her shift.

"I'm going to take a long walk, clear my head." He announced to them both. He had intended it to sound adult-like and calm but his voice cracked almost immediately. As an afterthought he added, "thank you for standing up for me today. Please don't take time off for my sake."

He didn't miss their worried glance to each other as he apparated from the lobby and into the Leaky Cauldron. He considered for a long moment getting a pint, lord knows he deserved one, but instead cross through the pub and into Diagon Alley. He made the short walk down the street towards Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. In the sunshine the bright orange shop front was near painful to look at and the constant movement in the window display made him feel dizzy and sick.

Ted had worked for George and Ron Weasley for the past two summers, stocking shelves and assembling products to gain experience and earn a little money. The job had been long hours and exhausting, but never once had he had a dull shift. When you worked for people who excelled in making other people happy it was hard to be miserable.

Ron was serving customers at the front of the shop when he entered. "Hello Teddy," he said surprised to see him. "I didn't realise it was the summer holidays already." He glanced around the shop. "That would explain the increase in children…"

Ted forced a tight smile. Normally he'd have appreciated the humour. "Is George around?"

"Out the back, just let yourself in."

He manoeuvred around the unpredictable shop floor and towards the rear of the shop that led to the stock rooms and the office above. He climbed the stairs and knocked out of courtesy before opening the door to find George fiddling with a small object at his desk.

He grinned immediately. "Teddy! It's good to see you, what brings you around?"

Ted shifted from foot to foot. He hoped the professional-looking robes and boring hair wouldn't put George off what he wanted to ask him. "I'm looking for a job," he finally managed. "If you'll have me back."

George looked confused.

Ted didn't want to insult George by trying to convince him that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was his first choice of career. The whole family knew that Ted would be aiming high. His Grandmother and Harry had instilled in him a strong work ethic from a young age and his intelligence and thirst for knowledge had only proved to them all that he would someday achieve something wonderful. George wasn't stupid, he knew this wasn't Teddy's ideal choice for a career. But it was possible that his was the only company who would willingly hire him.

Reluctantly Ted pulled the documents the ministry had assigned him from his robes. Better to be up front, he thought. "My options are limited right now," he explained, handing him the parchment. He had never been more ashamed. He felt as though he was admitting to some terrible crime.

George frowned, but accepted the documents. He read them over quickly, and realisation stirred on his face. "Oh, Teddy…"

The pity in his eyes didn't help how Ted was feeling. His throat became tight again.

"You've always got a job here if you want it." George held up the documents in his hand. "But these are crap. Whatever the Ministry has you labelled as you're better than that." He passed them back to him. "Your father never let it hold him back and neither should you."

And what use did that do for him? he thought. Despite his father's constant attempts to hold down a full time job not even Hogwarts could offer a sanctuary for him in the end. Ted had no war to escape to, no hero's death to be remembered by. He would live the life his Father never had the chance to finish: an unappreciated talent wasting away in a hermit's life.

With the agreement that he would start the following day he left, nodding to Ron as he past the threshold into the street. With nothing left to do with his day he apparated home to an empty house and went to bed.


	2. Victoire

Victoire was worried. Although she hadn't expected to see too much of Ted during the first few days of the summer holiday - she should could only assume that he had been catching up with his family and enjoying home comforts, as she had been. But it was unusual not to have had some contact. She had owled him the evening before and had allowed him until this morning before she became angry, and yet she had not received a you had been dating a guy for two years Victoire didn't think it was too much to hear something from him, if even just a small note to let her know that he was thinking of her or that he had got through the full moon without serious injury.

It was particularly hard not to feel like he was avoiding her when he was yet to turn up to the welcome home dinner at the Burrow that had been organised especially for them.

Through Harry, and like Harry, Teddy was considered to be a Weasley. He might have his own last name and his own family tree, but he was a part of theirs too. Molly had always said that even if Harry hadn't been his Godfather Teddy would have been adopted into their family regardless. Her cousins were his 'cousins' and her uncles his 'uncles'. Only when they had started to date did Ted begin to distance himself from the Weasley's. Victoire assumed that it had mostly been her father's influence that had forced him to do so, he had begun to see Teddy no longer as his eldest, and favourite, nephew, but as the boy who was dating his daughter.

Victoire had wanted to tell her father that it was a shame for Ted, who had so little family to begin with, but Bill could only see him as her boyfriend. He had spent his childhood bouncing between her home and the Potter's, Bill had almost been as instrumental in Ted's childhood as Harry had been, a surrogate for the Father they could never quite match up to. Bill had been the only one close to him that could even begin to understand how he felt when the moon changed, he had offered solutions and comfort to the boy when he was too young to understand what was happening to him. But quickly after they had begun to date closed doors had changed to strictly open ones and the once relaxed relationship between Bill and Teddy became tense. It had been a tough transition for Ted, but he had assured her time and time again that she was worth it.

The Weasley's had actually responded better to their relationship than they had hoped. Thrust into the spotlight two summer's before by Rita Skeeter and her quick-quotes-quill at the Quidditch World Cup the family had at first warned them about the danger of dating a close friend and the repercussions that would happen if they broke up. They had successfully proved them all wrong by celebrating their second anniversary only a month before, give or take a few days as neither of them actually remembered the exact date.

Besides, when half the family were guilty of dating, and then subsequently marrying, their close friends from childhood they could hardly be criticised for their life choices.

Victoire could only guess that he was busy pursuing options for work. She knew it concerned him that he had no structured plan for the rest of his life, the thought had consumed him long before his final exam a few weeks before.

The last night of term, his final night at Hogwarts, they had sat on the grass by the lake enjoying the warmth of the summer evening as the sun set, half an hour after the curfew. They couldn't bring themselves to leave.

"After all," Ted had said, lifting his face into the setting sun, "What are they going to do, give us detention?"

"I could still get punished," she had said, pressing herself into his shoulder. He wrapped it around her tightly, drawing her to him.

"Doesn't matter," he'd joked. "You'll have to spend all your free time somehow." Ted face instantly fell at the mention of their separation, and she swatted him playfully.

She could tell he was scared. Ted hadn't told her, but she knew him too well. He had a nervous habit of tapping his thumb and index finger together when he was anxious, and he had been doing it increasingly during his exams. She had expected him to relax when the exams had ended but he had only become more tense and the tapping had continued. When Victoire had tried to ease the truth from him he'd denied it. He hadn't needed to tell her, she had a strong suspicion what was wrong anyway.

The first child of their generation to graduate from Hogwarts had been exciting for all their family, a sign that a new age really had begun. It was time, Arthur had said, for the next generation to forge the fate of the wizarding world after the previous generations had allowed so much corruption and damage to occur. All eyes were turned towards Teddy, the son of two such exceptional people and the Godson of the Chosen One. It seemed as though everyone was eager to see how he would choose to spend his life.

Victoire knew the pressure and expectation was crushing him slowly, but Ted wouldn't talk about his plans or if indeed he had any. It seemed that everyone had their theories about what he would do when school was finished. Harry was eager for Ted to follow in his footsteps, he said that he had the logic and quick thinking to become an auror - after all, it was in his blood. His Grandmother was more enthusiastic for him to pursue a career using his ability in Charms and Transfiguration, or even become a Healer like she had. No doubt that the careers they had suggested would all be a good fit for him in their own way, but Victoire knew that Ted wanted to explore his own path.

She had her own ideas about what he should do with his life. Throughout his time at Hogwarts Ted had always been on his soapbox about some cause or protest he had learnt about. He had been the first to set up a petition when he'd heard about the pixies in the bushes by the forest that were being 'forcefully evicted' (or what most people would call 'trimming back the thorn bushes') behind the Quidditch sheds. He'd won, of course, after making a passionate case in their favour and the bushes had been left alone, but the Pixies had moved on that winter anyway.

Whatever he decided, Victoire had no doubt that when he picked a career he would be exceptional in it. Whatever job he chose to do Ted would incorporate his passion for helping people, it was in his nature. He so frequently thought of others before himself, it was one of the reasons she loved him so much. How many times had Ted made her the priority above himself?

He had laid on the grass, eyes closed and enjoying the sunshine, lost in his own thoughts. She hadn't pushed him for information and instead enjoyed his company and his _being there_. For the last time.

Ted had been her oldest friend and a constant throughout her education. They may not have always gotten along, as children often do, but he had never been far. Despite being in different houses - she in Gryffindor, him in Hufflepuff - and Ted two years older than her it had been easy, necessary even, for them to reconnect frequently. It hadn't been uncommon for them to seek each other out at mealtimes or in the library. Ted was the reason she had a shot at passing her Charms Owl this summer.

The past year had been difficult for them both, Ted was far too busy to make her a priority like she was used to, but she had understood. In some ways she had enjoyed seeing Ted put himself first for once. He had still made sure they had time together, they had found alternative ways to keep the romance alive: quiet sessions in dark classrooms, study periods in the library, revision and rewards behind closed curtains in her dormitory…

"Life is going to be so boring now." She had admitted. Victoire pulled a face. "I'll have to study with my friends. My _sister…_I don't know what I'm going to do without you here."

Ted had looked at her sadly, but he had no response that could make her feel better. They had avoided talking about what would happen when he left, it had always been a term away, months, weeks. Why upset themselves, when it felt like it would never actually happen? They had never spoken about whether they would last, it was a future neither could contemplate.

"We still have the summer." He had said, and she had agreed, but that wasn't enough for her. She wanted a lifetime with Teddy Lupin but that plan would have to wait.

Most of the family had arrived for the graduation party. The garden at the Burrow had been cleared for two long picnic tables and chairs had been pulled up alongside. Pies, salads, vegetables and meats had been piled into the middle of the table cloths with a bucket of butterbeer at both ends. Her Grandmother had even baked a cake for the occasion, a turquoise blue sponge with seven lit sparklers protruding from the top, charmed to stay lit until Teddy would blow it out. Yellow icing elegantly spelled out "Congratulations Teddy" on the top. Although the family were celebrating them both being home there was no doubt it was all for him. Victoire didn't mind, in two years she would have her own party, and there was so few times that Ted got to feel celebrated.

Most of the family had arrived but still no Ted. When Harry and Ginny had arrived with the children she waved to get their attention. She greeted her aunt and uncle and the three children and after the usual questions and conversation about school she asked "Do you know when Ted is coming?"

Harry had looked at her confused. "Is he not here yet?" He scanned the crowd quickly, as though Victoire wouldn't have searched for him already. "He's probably still at work."

That shocked her. "He's working now?"

That Ted had got a job and hadn't told her stung. Victoire was normally the first to hear his news, both good and bad. He had once waited excitedly outside the Gryffindor common room for forty minutes simply to tell her he'd received a box of chocolate frog cards from his Grandmother and one of the frogs had had two heads. Had he been waiting to tell her himself? Perhaps he was waiting to tell the family all at once, in one grand announcement?

James and Albus ran around her in circles, chasing each other. Harry grabbed his eldest by the collar to stop him. "_Enough_, James." He glanced in her direction, more pre-occupied with keeping the children in check than reassuring her. "He didn't tell you?" When she shook her head, he added apologetically. "Vicky I'm sorry, but this is probably something Ted should tell you himself."

That Harry didn't appear to be enthusiastic about Ted's new job meant that it wasn't something he necessarily approved of or cared for. But it was unusual for Harry to pass judgement on his Godson's decisions when he had so often given him the space and respect to make his own choices. Harry alone had held off from questioning Ted about his future, trusting him instead to tell him when he had news.

Ted arrived late into the meal with George and Ron, but allowed the older men to find their families as he stayed at the outskirts. Normally she would gain his attention but she couldn't deny that she was angry and waited for him to approach her instead. Chatting with Dominique she watched him from the corner of her eye, waiting.

He looked different. His hair wasn't his normal turquoise, a dull brown he normally reserved for when he was ill, and where before he smiled so easily his face was stony and set. He hovered near Harry, who pressed a beer into his hand and attempted to make some joke she couldn't hear, but Ted barely smiled. Something wasn't right.

Victoire counted back the days in her head. Of course, she consoled herself, the full moon had been the previous night. Ted had probably suffered badly, it was always worse when he was already stressed. There was a small part of her that resented being home and not being able to support him through it. How often had he sought her out after a rough night? She hated this, stuck in two different places, unable to reach each other easily. Her stomach turned when she remembered that for the next two years they would be much further apart than the floo network. With him and home and she at Hogwarts he would become practically unreachable.

They would be kidding themselves if they denied that Ted wasn't likely to have another meltdown whilst she was at school and it was unlikely that he would seek out Harry or Andromeda for comfort when he did. As he aged Ted had become more reserved about sharing his bad nights with his family and instead put on this facade that he was okay and had somehow grown out of the worst of it. She was sure they could see past this, but it hadn't stopped Ted from pretending it didn't still happen and they seemed to respect that at eighteen he didn't want to be treated as a sickly child.

The first bad night of his that she had seen, the worst she had ever seen, still haunted her. The penultimate night of his OWL exams two years before had coincided with the full moon so the previous three days, most of Ted's exam week, had been tarnished by the build-up to the end of the cycle. Already tense and under a lot of pressure for them, Ted had barely slept the full week and from the little she had seen of him she suspected he hadn't eaten properly either. The night before his transfiguration exam she had found him sobbing and retching in a quiet classroom on the third floor.

She remembered from childhood, before he had learnt to morph his scars away and hide his problems from the world, that on the worst nights Ted had a tendency to scratch and bite himself without knowing he was doing so. That night had been no different. His entire right arm had looked as though he had been mauled by an animal and his fingernails were crusted with blood. He was pale, his hair a dull grey-brown, and when she ran to him he had barely known she was there. It had taken her several tries, only when she took his face in his hands and forced him to look at her did he acknowledge her through enlarged pupils.

She remembered with awful clarity his eyes, bloodshot and desperate but never really seeing her, darting to every corner of the classroom as though he could see a threat she couldn't.

"It's so dark," he told her, but to what he was referring to she didn't know.

Victoire hadn't asked - what could he tell her that would make either of them feel better? She had wrapped herself around him and rubbed his back, making soothing sounds as she did so. He cried into her neck and she had forced his hands into hers to stop them shaking.

She hadn't thought to find a teacher, what help could they do for him? She stayed with him.

Only once the Moon had waned hours later did he return to himself. He let her clean him up with a damp cloth, not saying a word, but she could tell by his eyes that Teddy was now aware of her. He watched her silently, awkward and ashamed.

When he eventually spoke it was quiet. "How did you know I was here?" His voice was gravelly and she could see he'd bit his lip open. He removed his arm from her grasp, tugging the sleeve down over the exposed wound. As she watched he morphed the skin over the raw skin, a convincing, if exhausting, cover-up. No-one would know but them the night they had had.

"I was worried about you, so I came looking and...I heard the screaming." She replied, and he'd immediately looked to the door. "I silenced it, so we wouldn't be found." After a few minutes she said, "You should have told me, Ted...I could have helped."

He took the cloth from her to clean around his mouth. It came back bloody. "Nothing could have helped me tonight."

It was true. Throughout his childhood Harry had tried nearly every remedy to calm his Godson. Not even wolfsbane, the expensive yet most effective known treatment for werewolves that worked by allowing the man to keep their mind when they transformed, had made a dent in the torture that Teddy suffered three nights out of every month. The only result it had produced was that he had been violently sick after taking it. The body did not respond well to the potion when the person was not a full werewolf, it appeared.

Exhausted, but anxious still, she had dragged him back to Gryffindor tower and into her dormitory. They had laid next to each other innocently, Victoire held his hand and stroked his hair until he relaxed. She hadn't slept but he did, fitfully, for a few hours until she had to wake him for his exam. Ted had assured her afterwards that just knowing she was there had given him relief for the short time he had slept and had made all the difference in his exam - even on his worst days he'd managed to achieve Outstanding in nearly every subject.

He had promised her that it had been a one off, that not every cycle would be the same and it was the impact of his exams that had caused such an upset. "I'll return the favour when its your time of the month," he had joked a few days after. "I think it's your turn to be the monster."

The subsequent moons at school had been easier for him, but she had continued to seek him out regardless. Eventually he had stopped protesting and let her into his world, allowing her to help him through it.

But last night would be the first month since the end of the school year that she had not been present to soothe him and it appeared Ted had struggled.

Victoire had just had to get used to the idea that her loving, sweet, gentle boyfriend turned into an anxious and sometimes aggressive wreck for three days out of the month. It was as though his personality completely flipped, he had been known to break things, throw objects, punch holes in the wall. He at least maintained the capacity to only take his frustrations out on inanimate objects, she had never seen him hurt another person. But still, it could be scary, and had she ever told anyone about it she was sure that they would worry for her but Victoire was determined that she trusted him. He had never hurt her yet, and it seemed he was getting a better grasp on his symptoms as he aged.

Victoire glanced in his direction again, hoping that he would see her staring and take the initiative to invite her to him. When it became clear that he was avoiding her gaze she approached him instead. She had always been proactive like that.

"Hey…" She said, trying to sound unbothered.

He took a long sip of beer, not looking her in the eyes. "Hey." He had worried the label off the bottle, peeling it from the glass in one long strip.

Victoire had never seen him like this so long after the moon had waned. With a stab of fear she worried just how bad his night had been. "Harry said you got a job?"

"I-" His voice cracked. Ted pulled a hand through his short hair, looking towards the sky. "I- We should talk."

She nodded reluctantly. He was beginning to worry her. Had he done something terrible? No-one ever said 'We should talk' and it be a good thing. Numbly he led her across the garden, through the broken fence and into the orchard where it was quiet and sheltered from view of the family. He settled on the grass under an overgrown apple tree, legs crossed, his head in his hands.

She sat opposite him and reached out to place her hands on his knees. He didn't react to her touch. "Teddy, what on earth has happened?"

He told her, beginning with the letter he had received the day before. He described the awful visit to the Ministry and the register he had been forced to sign his name on to. He explained how he had begged George for a job, he was no longer considered suitable for a professional position elsewhere. When he finished his voice had become low and tight, and she could tell that he was barely keeping it together.

Stretching towards him she touched his face, caressing both his cheeks and whispering tender kisses up the jawline. His face was tight, but his eyes fluttered closed to enjoy the sensation. "Teddy...it's okay." She ran her fingers across his face, trying to coax him to look at her.

He didn't respond, his muscles tense. After a long moment he finally looked her in the eye. "That isn't the worst part of it," he began. "They told me I shouldn't have children with anyone who might carry the disease." His face was distressed, his fingers tugged at his hair, "_I'm not allowed to marry a potential carrier._"

She understood immediately. Her father still bore the scars of his attack from Fenrir Greyback twenty years ago and although he had not been badly affected and had never suffered a transformation, his condition was much like Teddy's: he could become anxious or irritable or depressed at the time of the full moon. Bill had never been bitten and therefore was not a direct carrier for Lycanthropy - none of his children were affected by the Moon - but there was a strong chance she carried the gene for the disease. But Ted was a direct carrier, it was in his blood and it appeared he had only avoided the disease by luck. If she had a child with Teddy it was possible that it would be born a full werewolf.

How had they never considered this a possibility before? She could only blame their youth, they were both enjoying the excitement and romance of their time together to imagine a time beyond their immediate reality. It was the same reason neither of them could consider a life beyond Teddy being at Hogwarts - if they acknowledged that it was actually going to happen, that he would be forced to stay behind when she left in September, they would crumble quickly.

When you were fifteen and trying to imagine two years into the future without your best friend and first love it might as well have been a lifetime away.

She opened her mouth to console him, to let him know that it was all going to be okay, but she could think of nothing to tell him that would change things. What could she say to the man she loved to make it all better? It was no secret that she wanted marriage and a family some day - it was a dream they both shared. Victoire couldn't lie and tell him those things didn't matter to her, Ted would know the truth.

He had turned pale and was staring at the ground again. She said, "it's going to be okay." The words sounded hollow even to her.

"I can't do that to you," he managed. "I can't take your future away from you."

Surely he couldn't mean what she thought he did? She said desperately, "You're my future."

He shook his head. His eyes were red and puffy. "I love you too much to do that to you." He leaned away from her, rattling off his reasons like a speech he had learnt from heart: "You deserve a family, I can't give you one. You deserve a marriage, I'm not allowed to marry you." His voice became hoarse. "I can't provide for you the way I should be able to, and give you the life you deserve."

She was beginning to panic now. "Teddy... what are you-"

He stood, openly crying now, his fale pale and blotchy. "I love you Victoire, but I can't spend my life with you. You mean too much to me to drag you down with me."

Before she could argue, or change his mind, or touch him, Ted was gone. With a soft pop he apparated from the orchard, leaving Victoire alone under the apple tree.

**Thanks for reading! Please review. **


	3. Weasleys

Teds first week at Weasley Wizard Wheezes was a busy one. He worked all the hours George would give him and with the rush that came from the first week of the summer holidays the shifts weren't in short supply. Ted arrived at the shop at eight to prepare the stock for the day and opened the doors for nine. This gave Ron and George invaluable time with their children, as it only required one of them to pop in around ten to check how the shop was doing and allow him to take a break after lunch. They would stay with him until closing time at five thirty, at which point Ted would sweep, clean and prepare the shop for the next day.

It was a busy job but Ted appreciated the chaos. He hated the times of day where there were no children screaming or yelling around him, it allowed him time alone with his thoughts and recently there weren't many positive ones. Despite the job being miles away from what he wanted to do, not that he had decided what he wanted to do as he saw little point contemplating it anymore, he managed to find pleasure and satisfaction in the small tasks. He realised that, like at Hogwarts, he excelled under pressure, and thrived best when his employers congratulated him on a good job. It drove him to do his best, despite the circumstances.

Neither George nor Ron had asked him what had happened between him and Victoire. He suspected that she had filled the family in on the details after he had left her. He felt bad about that, he hadn't intended to cause drama on an evening when they were supposed to be celebrating, but as soon as he saw Victoire he knew what had to be done.

No doubt her family had all agreed it was the right action for them both and that was why no one had attempted to convince him otherwise. He appreciated that, he didn't need to explain his reasons over and over to every uncle she had. And there were a lot of them.

Ted knew that he was lucky to still be considered a welcome member of staff at the family business after he had broken their nieces heart. He had half expected to turn up to work the following morning and get wrung out by a gang of angry red heads, but they had remained professional. Or at least, as professional as two jokesters could be. Few young men could say that they had pissed off a Weasley woman and still be allowed on the premises with everything still intact.

The busy weekend had nearly wiped the stock from the shelves. Ted was helping George stack a new product in the the stand behind the window, a lengthy and tedious job. Halfway up the step ladder he paused between boxes to watch the people passing by in the street, the shops seemed to buzz with the return of the children to Diagon Alley. He had a good view of the door and inwardly cringed when his Grandmother walked passed, glanced in his direction and waved.

His groan was unnoticed as she entered the shop and approached them. George hopped down from the stool he was balancing on to offer it to the woman but she politely held up a hand to decline.

George wiped his brow and offered a winning smile. "Hell of a worker, this one," he told her, pointing behind him at Ted, who ignored the compliment and continued to remove items from the box. "He's really taken the stress off the kids coming home."

Ted didn't miss the undering message there, that come the end of the summer holidays the business was unlikely to have a valid need for him. For years George and Ron had maintained the shop just the two of them, there was little opportunity for a third business partner. Ted knew the job was temporary but he appreciated the opportunity of work all the same. He would leave when the time was right and find a new job, whatever that would be, he would never want to put George out by overstaying his welcome.

Andromeda smiled, her face tense. Over the years the lessons learnt from her Black Family upbringing had worn off and she had began to betray her emotions on her face again - Ted was one of the few who could see when she was masking her emotions. "I would expect nothing less from him," she said proudly. "Edward?" He glanced towards her, nervous at the use of his proper name. "There's something I think you'd like to see."

She extended towards him a thick parchment envelope with the Hogwarts crest stamped into the seal on the back. Ted knew what this was, but he felt no desire to open the envelope and know for sure. He wished desperately he could return to the previous weeks anxiety over his exam results, but they were meaningless now.

He stared at the parchment but didn't reach for it. "They won't matter, Gran," he said, holding his arms out to George to receive the next box.

They both looked at him in horror. Andromeda shook her head and then uncharacteristically rolled her eyes at George then took the initiative to fully ignore Teds protests, as she often did, and tore open the envelope herself.

In a loud voice meant to make the entire stop stop what they were doing and listen, she began to read: "Charms: Outstanding. Defense against the Dark Arts: Outstanding. Herbology: Outstanding. Transfiguration: Outstanding. Arithmancy: Exceeds Expectations. Study of Ancient Runes: Exceeds Expectations." She gave him a look as if to say 'well?'.

Several of the parents in the shop looked impressed and an elderly woman nudged her grandson and said "if you work as hard as he has, you might achieve as much. Well done young man!"

George let out a low whistle. "Six NEWTs Teddy, that's brilliant. Excessive, but brilliant."

Teds cheeks began to flush. The results were what he had wanted, and expected of course, but the confirmation gave him little relief. It would have made little different if they were six failed NEWTs, he knew. Exams and a good education would get you nowhere when you were a category three lycanthrope, he might as well have studied at a muggle school for all the good it would do him in the magical world.

He wished desperately he could be excited about the results and plan the next stage of his life like his friends would surely be doing that morning. How many students would be sending off job applications and making the first vital steps on their careers today? He couldn't think about it, the thought of what he had lost made him feel sick.

"Thanks for letting me know, Gran," he said quietly, his voice cracking towards the end. He returned to the task he had been given and turned his back to her so they couldn't see the hurt on his face. "I've really got to get back to work. We've got loads to finish today."

Andromeda slipped the envelope back into her bag. "I'm so proud of you, Teddy," she said quietly. "You mother and father would be too."

He pretended not to hear her. She left, but as she did so Ted couldn't help but think bitterly that it was his father who had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Teds self-pitying mood did not much improve in the afternoon when an old dormitory mate of his walked through the door of the shop. As timing had it, Ted was covered head to toe in glitter from a prematurely exploded rainbow bomb, lovingly christened by George as a 'Unicorn Fart'. He was trying to wipe the pink sparkles out his hair and mouth and shake it from his robes when Richard approached him with a wide smile on his face. He was clutching several paper bags from Madam Malkins and a new dragon skin briefcase.

Rick had been a fellow Hufflepuff and had shared the dormitory with Ted and two others since first year. They had been on good terms, but not particularly friendly towards each other by the end of their seventh year. Ted suspected he had always been jealous of his academic success and Ricks crude questions and suggestions regarding his relationship with Victoire had not endeared him towards the other boy. But he was a familiar face and he was interested to see how Rick had got along in the few vital days since graduation. Judging by Ricks new attire it would not be the answer he was hoping for and he didn't particularly feel the need to delve further.

"Ted!" he said in mock surprise, as though he hadn't followed him around the shop only seconds before. "Mate, how are you?"

How to answer that? Ted wanted to say 'I feel as though my world has ended. Some mornings, I only get out of bed because I know I'll be letting a friend down if I don't, and that's as good as my life is going to get.' He imagined telling him, if only to get an honest reaction, but dismissed it quickly.

"Same old," he said vaguely. He heaved a box from the floor and moved it onto a nearby shelf so he could clear the glitter mess on the floor. He had hoped that his actions would communicate that he was too busy to simply stop and chat.

"I'm doing great," Rick told him, although Ted hadn't asked, a smug grin on his face. "I just got offered a job. This morning."

Ted grunted. Rick took it as a sign he'd both heard him and as a prompt to elaborate. "Magical maintenance department. Junior Assistant. I start on Monday."

He said the words 'Junior Assistant' as though he had been offered the job of assistant to Minister of Magic. Ted froze and put the box he was holding back onto the messy floor, scattering the glitter further across the wood. He didn't care. The Magical Maintenance department was essentially responsible for the upkeep of the Ministry: when a lift broke down, they fixed it. When the floo powder ran out in the fireplaces, they stocked it. Ted thought about the crumpled letter he had received a few days earlier, dumped at the bottom of the kitchen bin in disgust. 'Dear Mr. Lupin,' it had read, 'We are sorry to inform you your application for Junior Assistant has been unsuccessful at this time...' They hadn't even waited to hear his exam results before they rejected him, the register had told them everything they had needed to know.

"Congratulations," he managed to say, but the words sounded flat. "You'll excel at that, I'm sure."

Rick grinned. "What about you, Ted? Any news?"

He was asking if he'd been offered any jobs, of course. "Nothing yet," Ted replied, hoping that he sounded elusive enough that Rick wouldn't report to the other lads that he was a failure.

"Ah." Rick offered a sympathetic face. "Well….something will come through for you."

Patronising git.

Ted just wanted him to leave. He stabbed the box to open it, more aggressively than he should have. Glitter exploded in a small cloud from the tear in the cardboard. It wasn't his old room-mate he was angry with, he knew that, but it gave him someone rational and present to focus on, and the mild dislike he had harbored for him developed into full blown rage. He was worried that if he turned to look at his smug face he would punch it, repeatedly. He couldn't believe that he was actually jealous of the rubbish, low paid, low skilled job Rick had been granted. Ted continued to stock the shelves, one by one.

"Phill got offered a transport position and Mark's moving up north to work on forestry maintenance," Rick continued, despite his silence.

"That's...great news," Ted said, trying to be happy for the two lads in his house he genuinely enjoyed the company of. They had worked hard at their exams, he reminded himself, they deserved to be successful in their careers and just because he was struggling it didn't mean that they shouldn't be thriving.

"When you hear about a job we should all go out for a beer to celebrate," Rick said. "Keep us updated, yeah?"

"Yeah. Bye Rick."

Ted turned his back purposefully. In the reflection of a glass cabinet he saw Rick pick up his bags and leave. Ted kicked the box to one side, not much caring where it ended up and stormed into the stockroom, slamming the door behind him. He lit the room with his wand and in a fit of uncharacteristic rage punched a box on the shelf in front of him. It didn't make him feel better. Ted immediately tried to flatten out the soft dent in the cardboard, feeling foolish.

There was a gentle knock on the stock room door. "...Ted?" George asked him cautiously.

He didn't respond. He needed five minutes alone to sort out his thoughts and compose himself before going back onto the shop floor. But there was no way he hadn't been seen storming into the cupboard, no where to hide from his childish behaviour.

"Do you want to talk about it?" George said.

He sighed, realising he wasn't going to be left alone without a response. "No."

"Was he a friend of yours?"

"Hell no." He felt like a sulking child. I'm eighteen, he reminded himself. Adults don't act like this.

George made a light clucking sound from behind the door as though he was contemplating what to say. Ted didn't wait for his consolation words - what could he say that would make him feel better anyway? - he straightened up, running a frustrated hand through his dull, lifeless hair as he did so.

Reluctantly, he opened the door of the stock room to allow his boss to enter. "Rick," he said bitterly, fully aware that George had no idea who Rick was but grateful for the chance to rant, "he gets a job without no problems, even though he only took three NEWTs and probably barely passed them. But me, I'm…" he nearly said 'stuck here' but stopped himself in time. "He got a job I applied for. A crappy job, one I didn't even really want but that idiot just walked into it."

George frowned. Ted continued to talk in a rush of words. "And the two other lads from my house have both got jobs too! And it's not that either of them are thick, but they didn't…" Ted realised how nasty and childish he was sounding, and looked at his shoes to avoid George's gaze. He didn't mean to sound that way. He wasn't even sure that he was making any sense, his voice sounded frantic and rushed even to him.

"You worked hard," the older man said for him. "You worked your butt off in your exams and you deserve the successes your friends are having ten-fold. But instead you're working in a shop."

Ted's stomach dropped. "George, I didn't mean-"

"Teddy, it's okay." George smiled and Ted believed him. "This isn't your dream job, and that's okay. You don't have to pretend that this was your first choice."

When the shop doors had closed several hours later, George beckoned him over and pulled a bottle of Ogden's Finest Firewhisky (aged 12 years) from behind a box in the stockroom. Ron had joined them an hour earlier and he produced two glasses from beneath the counter and a mug from the kitchen. He poured each of them a generous drink.

George raised the glass above his head in a toast. "To Teddy," he announced to them both. "The first member of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to get a full set of NEWTs."

Ron grinned. "To the most highly qualified member of staff we've ever had."

They sank the alcohol back in one movement and Ron poured them each another. "What's the plan, Ted?" he said, oblivious to his earlier confrontation and subsequent meltdown. "What's the next adventure in the life of the great Edward Remus Lupin?"

The million galleon question, Ted thought. Surely the question he would have to answer repeatedly over the next week, each time with the same depressing outcome. "It's really not a question of what I want to do, it's who's willing to take on a werewolf," he admitted. "When an employer sees that certificate of registration they conveniently have no vacancies."

"But the world is a different place now," George said. "The law has changed since your old man tried to find work twenty years ago. You can't discriminate against someone because they're on the registry."

Ted thought of the three job rejections he had received that week alone. Harry had suggested to him various positions that were advertised across the Ministry, jobs Ted should have been able to walk into with his intelligence and OWL results alone. He wondered which of his classmates would be offered the positions instead? It seemed that not even with Harry's influence could he achieve the lower level jobs that came easily to others.

"Legally they can't discriminate," Ted replied. "But they don't have to say that the registry is the reason. They find a different excuse: 'you're not right for the job' or 'you're just not a good fit for the role'. There's not an employer around whose mental enough to take me on."

George smiled in sympathy. "You'll always have a job here, Ted." He held up a finger when the boy opened his mouth to protest. "You will. You're too good for this place, too smart to be stocking shelves, but you'll never be without a job for as long as you want it." Gesturing to Ron to fill the glass a third time, he held the whisky towards him. "But you're destined for greater things, Ted. You'll see."

Ted so wanted to believe in the wisdom of the older man. Yet all he could see in his future was stocking shelves and serving customers. A better life than some, he reminded himself, from what he had heard his father had been lucky to hold down a job for longer than a month, but Ted would always have his family and the Weasley's. And George was probably right, the world had changed a little since the war.

Ted forced a smile on to his face and they toasted him a second time and sent him home to celebrate.

The 'celebration' consisted of Harry cooking a roast dinner and Ted playing on the carpet with Albus and Lily as James sat on the couch, too mature for childish games. He was grateful for the quiet meal in Godric's Hollow and had been dreading a big family gathering that would draw attention to his bad mood.

He shouldn't have been surprised that it was just him and the Potters, considering the last Weasley dinner he had been invited to had resulted in him breaking Victoires heart, he expected it would be a while until he was welcome back to any of their tables.

Only after the children were put to bed and a bottle of wine placed between them did Harry and Ginny steer the conversation towards what he had been avoiding. Ted suspected they had waited until he had a decent amount of alcohol in him first, but they needn't have bothered, he had prepared himself to justify his actions and he had always been an open book around them.

"We just want you to be happy," Harry said, glancing at his wife who nodded in encouragement. "And if you and Vicky weren't happy…"

"We were happy." Ted said quickly. "I loved her. I still love her. I think she still loves me too. But she deserves better than what I can give her." He traced his finger around the wine glass to avoid looking them in the eye. He didn't have to look to know the expressions they would be giving him.

"You're 'too old, too poor, too dangerous'?" Harry asked. When Ted stared at him in confusion, he explained "That's exactly what your father told your mother before they were married. He tried to push her away as well, he thought she'd be better off without him. She didn't care, she loved him despite all that."

Ted rolled his eyes. "My father probably had a point!" He snapped bitterly. "What the hell was he thinking, marrying my mother and having a baby? Victoire deserves better than what they had: getting married in some secret ceremony and having to hide the relationship from the Ministry, being forced to provide financially for some deadbeat who can't get a decent job."

Without realising he had been doing so, Ted found himself imagining his father was with him, directing all his anger at the man who had unintentionally put his son in the position he was in. His father had never wanted this for him, he knew that, but Ted couldn't do to Victoire what his father had done to his mother. If Remus had stayed away his mother might still be alive. If his parents had lived, what position would they be in now? Would his father still be struggling as Ted was? Would they be as happy as everyone told him they had been?

"Love overcomes difficulty." Ginny said helpfully. "If Victoire truly loves you she won't care if there's a big wedding. Did you ask her what she wanted?"

Ted shook his head. "She might be able to forgive me for that. But Victoire will care when she has to play the lottery when it comes to having a child. Which one will it be, a baby or a puppy?" He downed his glass - it helped. "No, I won't do that to her. She deserves only the best, and there's plenty of men who can give her that."

"You don't know that." Harry said. "You weren't born a werewolf, you child might not either…"

"But is it worth the risk?" He interrupted. "What if there's enough of the condition in Victoire that any child we have isn't so lucky? And I know her, she won't just want one child, she wants a big family like the one she grew up in. Who's to say if my parents had another child they wouldn't have inherited it? I was lucky." He laughed bitterly. "Well, as lucky as I can be, given the situation."

Harry watched him carefully. "We're worried about you Teddy."

"I'm worried about me too," he admitted.

Harry chewed his bottom lip. "You're not going to do anything...stupid. Are you?"

Ted just looked at him blankly. "I'm not about to throw myself in the great lake with my pockets full of stones, if that's what you're asking." Was that what they thought? Had he really appeared that bad?

Harry nodded, the relief on his face. They were silent for a minute and then Ted asked "How is she?"

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, sipping their wine to prolong the inevitable. "She did great on her OWL exams." Ginny said awkwardly. "Got Outstanding in nearly every subject."

He grinned at that, proud of her. "Of course she did, she's amazing."

"But she's upset." Ginny looked into her glass as she said it. "She really misses you Ted."

That both stung him and made him happy at the same time. He wasn't used to feeling conflicting emotions when it came to Victoire, she was such an all or nothing type of person. "One day, when she realises it's for the best and has moved on, hopefully we can go back to being friends again."

But Ted knew he'd ruined it. There was no going back to how they had been a year ago. You couldn't go from what they had, from the plans they had made, to simply being friends again. The wounds were too raw and too deep and Victoire was not just some girl he had dated to pass the time and offload hormones. She was the love of his life and he would never want anything as much as he wanted her.

They finished the bottle of wine without asking about Victoire again.

Harry cleared his throat. He had that face on him that said he was done trying to be Ted's Father but needed to prolong the moment just a little longer. "Did any of those positions I found for you lead to anything…?"

Ted shook his head. Ginny opened another bottle and poured him another glass, and he thanked her. His head was beginning to feel fuzzy and light, his muscles relaxing for the first time in a week. It wasn't a bad feeling. "Rejected, rejected, rejected," he said, and he didn't even care. "All because I'm 'not a good fit'."

His Godfather pursed his lips. It was a shame, Ted thought, Harry had been so sure and so excited to pass the opportunities he had researched on to him. No doubt he too had thought that by enquiring about the jobs personally someone might take pity on Ted and offer him something, swayed on the decision by his influence alone. When not even the great Harry Potter could get him a job what hope did Ted have?

"Keep trying," Harry told him, but he could see the worry on his face. "Something will come up."

'Something will come up'. How many times had Ted heard that? It had only been a week since he had graduated, he reminded himself. No one ever walked into their dream job straight out of Hogwarts, but he had hoped that he would at least be on the right path. Isn't that what they were told at school, that those who worked hard achieved their goals?

Ted left Godric's Hollow not feeling any more reassured than when he had arrived, despite their best efforts and offers of alcohol. He supposed at least that night he would sleep better than he had been. Everyone else seemed so confident that Ted's time would come, but when?

Who would be dumb enough to hire him?

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	4. A visit

Ted worked too much to properly notice that the Summer had passed, but it did, and for the most part uneventfully. He was able to avoid Victoire and all major Weasley gatherings, although as he hadn't been invited to a single one of them the task became an easy one. Despite his relief that he wouldn't have to turn down an offer - they were rarely rejected without a fuss and without an extremely good reason - he did feel hurt that it had been so easy for the Weasleys to see the back of him so quickly. He had spent as much time at the Burrow growing up as Victoire had, but he supposed that when it came down to it blood really was thicker than water.

Ted imagined that Bill Weasley had been elated by his absence. No doubt the man had cracked open the finest bottle of French champagne the night his daughter returned to tell him that they were over and toasted to Ted's awful health. Victoire would be free move on to someone who would meet Bill's exceptionally high standards, although Ted had never been quite sure what he had done to fail them.

August thirty-first, the day before the Hogwarts Express was due to depart Ted woke feeling as though he was lighter somehow. Although he missed her terribly the idea of Victoire being hundreds of miles away at school gave him some relief. There would be no threat of running into her in Diagon Alley or whilst at dinner at Harry's. He wouldn't have to feel that sudden jolt of excitement and then that inevitable swift ache of sadness when one of the Potter children mentioned her in conversation or that moment of irrational panic when he saw a blond head of hair walk into the shop.

Ted was beginning to feel as though he was a fraction of his former self. Bit by bit, he promised himself, life would slowly get better. It may never be fully okay, but he would manage with what he had and do his best. The idea of Victoire moving on, keeping busy and living her life the way she should was oddly comforting to him. He would stand at the sidelines, quietly loving her, whilst she blossomed and grew.

The final day of the summer holidays was always a particularly busy one for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Children lined the aisles and crowded around the stands, desperate to fill their pockets with whatever mischief they could. The most popular products were depleted by lunch time and Ted had returned from the stockroom a dozen times or more only to be mobbed by children before the product could even reach the shelves. It would take weeks for them to properly fill the stock supplies to the level they should be, and yet every year, despite George and Ron's preparation, they continued to run short by the end of the day.

"It's going to be a crazy term this year," George said proudly. He was sorting through the tills, the bag he was emptying coins into was bulging and took two arms to lift it.

"The professor's won't know what hit them," Ted agreed, reaching around the display in the shop window, removing the products there into the shelves behind. He had a smile on his face, a satisfied grin that Ted could only achieve from a hard days work. He was aching and sweaty, but there was something comforting from knowing it was because he had worked for it.

He blamed his good mood for not being as aware of his surroundings as he should have been. There was a tap on the glass. Looking up, his heart sank and the smile left his face when he realised it wasn't just a child pointing out a product to their parent, but the person he had worked so hard to avoid all summer. Victoire stood there, small and perfect in the rush of kids around her. Her hair had grown and was golden from a summer spent in the sunshine, her bare arms nicely browned. She smiled at him shyly.

Ted had pictured the moment they would meet again over and over in his mind, but he'd never got it right, her details had been hazy and imperfect. Despite him taking hours of his life to memorize her every feature, she still was too beautiful for his memory to ever really get it right.

She waved slightly and turned, and for a brief second he hoped that that would be it, a passing greeting, and she would leave. The shop door opened, and then she was there.

Well, fuck.

His mouth went dry. He straightened up and rubbed his arm self consciously. The short sleeves from his Weasley Wizard's Wheezes uniform didn't cover the scars up his forearms, maintaining that amount of morphed appearance all day was an exhaustion he couldn't be bothered with and he had taken to wearing a long shirt underneath, despite the heat from the shop making it uncomfortable. George had never asked and he'd never explained. He tugged at the sleeves to cover them completely, but of course she would know.

"Hi Teddy." She said softly, and her smile was hesitant. "Have you got five minutes?"

He would give her the rest of his life if he could. How could he resist her? Five minutes with Victoire sounded perfection but Ted knew that if he was given the chance to spend time alone with her he would do something he would regret and it would only cause pain for them both. He glanced around the shop needlessly, desperate for an excuse to avoid her. "I'm a bit busy right now," he said, and his voice sounded weak and child-like. Pathetic.

"No he isn't," George supplied helpfully. Ted shot him a look.

"I don't have a break for another two hours," he said pointedly.

George smiled sweetly at them both. "Teddy, you work too hard. Go get a cup of tea and show Victoire the new biscuits we have. They've got chocolate in them," he added excitedly.

Ted glared at his boss, who smiled innocently back at him, but there was little he could do. If he refused Victoire further it would be obvious he was trying to avoid her. Perhaps she only wanted to say goodbye before she left for school? What harm could it really do for them to talk? He nodded to her, turned on the spot and then, uncaringly elbowing his way past several children, he weaved through the crowd towards the back of the shop.

A quick glance back told him that Victoire was following only a few steps behind him. He led her through the rear door, up the stairs and into the old studio flat George had shared with his brother during the war. Now used as an extended stock room and office, it housed an old sofa, a kettle and a small dining set against the wall.

He took his time, meticulously making them a cup of tea each with painful precision, waiting for her to speak. When she had yet to say anything and the minutes stretched on he forced himself to look at her with a timid smile. What do you say to the woman you love but can't spend your life with? She appeared uncertain of herself, staring at the floor, so unlike the confident girl he was used to. Growing up it had always been Victoire who had gotten them in trouble, her silly ideas and loud mouth always gave them away, even when they had nothing to feel guilty about she somehow managed to land them in it by chattering about something they had done previously. Some days it was a struggle just to get her to shut her up, but he could listen to her talk for hours.

Ted didn't like this quiet ghost of a girl he had created.

He opened his mouth several times to speak but what could he say? He stared at her instead. Eventually, he managed "how've you been?"

He cursed himself. How had she been? Was that what their relationship was reduced to, mindless smalltalk and awkward silences?

She laughed tightly, but she was in no way amused. "For Merlin's sake, Teddy. How do you think I've been? You never come around anymore. I've not had any letters from you. You've avoided every meal at my Grandmothers. I'm beginning to think that you really don't care about me anymore."

His mouth went dry. "I do care," he said desperately. "Of course I still care, I'll always care about you."

She sniffed and looked him in the eye sharply. "You've a terrible way of showing it."

"I'm sorry." It wasn't enough. It could never be enough.

"I miss you." She said. "You didn't come to visit me once this summer. I'm not used to spending this long away from you."

Had she really wanted him to visit her? He had expected that if he'd turned up at her door she or her father would have cursed him into oblivion. Too soon, he had told himself, to be trying to make friends and pretending that things could go back to how they were before they had begun to date. They weren't ready for that quite yet. Or at least, he wasn't.

"I miss you too," he admitted. "But that doesn't change anything. What I said still stands. I...thought it'd be too hard. I was trying to respect you."

"Respect," she repeated with a hollow laugh. "How about you 'respect' me and stop this stupid noble quest you're on, trying to protect me from a threat that isn't even there." Victoire narrowed her eyes at him, and for a moment he saw the girl he recognised. Victoire was at her finest when she was screaming at him. "We could make it work," she whispered. When he took a brief glance up her face he realised she was crying. Oh, fuck. How had he managed to make their awful situation even worse? He hated it when she cried.

Shaking his head, he said "You deserve more than just settling for second best. You deserve the very best."

Victoire looked at him sternly. "And what about what you deserve?"

Not once had Ted stopped to consider himself of deserving anything. Andromeda had once described her Grandson as a simple man, in the very best way. A home cooked meal, a quidditch match on the radio and a weekend with good company and Ted was at his happiest. Right now all Ted desired was his girlfriend back and a half-decent career path. Simple indeed. But never once did it occur to him that he was in any way deserving of the things he wanted.

"It isn't about what I need," he forced, because she was getting awfully close and he had to say _something_. She stared him down, a skill in itself when she was a good foot shorter than he was. But such was the spell she had over him that if she told him to do something, _anything_, he'd be forced to comply.

Weasley women were excellent at that.

"What you _need_ is a good slap and a wakeup call." She said it in a way that made his heart pump, more intrigued than scared by her threat. She was inches from him, if had he the courage to do so he could lean down and kiss her. "Because I am in no way done with you, Teddy Lupin."

Oh, how much he wanted to believe her. What he would do to be her project again, have her fix him and soothe his insecurities, dig beneath the surface and discover him like she had so many times before. Bit by bit. No one had the ability to heal him like Victoire had. She had taught him about himself, and together they were exploring each others secrets. Their slow unfolding game had stretched out behind them with no foreseeable end point in sight. Until now.

Ted closed his eyes for a few seconds, partly to avoid looking at her and partly to stop himself from crying, but mostly so that he could inhale and breathe her in again, focusing solely on the scent of her. She wore some expensive french perfume her mother bought back from Paris every year, and it smelled delicious.

They could be anywhere, he imagined, alone and none of this could ever have happened. This could just be another afternoon spent hiding behind curtains. He could be whole again and she would get the outcome she so obviously wanted.

For a second he considered the possibility. He could be selfish and they could live quietly somewhere, never rich but within their means if they were careful. They wouldn't be married or able to have children, but they would have each other and wasn't that what every song on the radio was about? They could have a vegetable patch, and a labrador, and keep themselves busy in other, more unconventional ways. True love prevails, and all that.

But Ted loved her too much. It was simple. He loved her but she was too _everything_ for him. Too smart, too successful. Too far out of his league, had they not grown up together. One day she would amount to great things and marry a great man and he would not be the one to hold her back from happniess. Love overcomes difficulty, Ginny had told him, and he agreed. This was the most difficult decision of his life, but love spurred him on to do the right thing.

"It's for the best," he muttered, trying to convince himself more than her, finally able to stare into her eyes.

Victoire had that face on her that said she was up to something. He knew that look - he had _lived_ for that look - it was the same one that had gotten them in trouble the year before when Rita Skeeter had spotted them at the Quidditch World Cup in a dark corner with a bottle of sangria. It was that look which had kept him up so late the year before, thinking of her. It was the same look that had kept them up late together.

She pressed herself against him, leaning into his chest on her tip toes, lips an inch from his. "Hmm," she sighed, and he felt the breath on his cheek. Ted felt his body draw towards her involuntarily, his shoulders stoop to match hers - why the hell couldn't his brain and body coordinate on the things he thought they had previously agreed on? - he been so sure that he had control over the situation but she was an irresistible force that he was drawn to. Self control indeed. She lifted herself to him so their lips met, only briefly, just a taste to remind him of the things he was missing.

"I'm not giving up," she told him, lips tracing his as he talked, hands on his forearms anchoring him in place. Entirely unnecessary, he concluded, his body wouldn't move even if he had wanted it to.

Ted absolutely didn't want her to give up on him. Her hand laced into his hair and he dipped his mouth to hers. Ted couldn't help himself, his hands found her back, her waist, her hips. Her body was familiar, his only constant in the chaos of the past few years, the heat between them comforting and alluring all the same.

"We shouldn't-" He kissed her neck, her shoulder, her jawline. "-Be…" She cut him off with a bite to the lip. "...Doing this." He was being pushed back onto the sofa roughly. He let her.

Victoire stood over him, defiant. "So stop," she said, lifting a leg around his to straddle his lap.

"Huh?" His hands were on her hips, drawing them closer to him. When had he done that?

"You want to stop?" She pressed herself against him. "So stop." A roll of her hips convinced him that it was absolutely not a possibility. Kissing down his neck, she continued to talk. "You're going through hell right now," she brushed her hair back from her face. Leave it, he begged silently. "I get that. You need some time to figure everything out, and your gut reaction was to protect me." She smiled gently. "A noble response. But Dad said to give you time, you'd come around and start thinking clearly when you've had a chance to figure yourself out."

_That_ surprised him. That Bill Weasley was willing to defend him, and further, encourage his daughter to wait for him to change his mind was unexpected. It had seemed that no matter how well he had treated Victoire or how carefully he played to Bill's rules (Ted had. Victoire had consistently broken them, landing them both in trouble and more than once in a position they couldn't talk themselves out of, such as the one they were in now.) he had continued to vocally discourage Ted coming around and had gone out of his way to inconvenience their meetings. They had lost the privilege to sit on the same couch when they'd been caught snogging early on in their relationship and closed doors had instantly been a luxury of the past the moment Rita Skeeter's article had been released.

"You shouldn't waste your time waiting for me," he repeated.

Victoire sighed and extracted herself from him. Every part of his body rebelled at the movement and he felt himself reach out to her. Ted really, really hated himself sometimes.

She stood, and the distance between them was a cavern. "I'm not done with you, Ted." She said again, shaking her head to emphasise her annoyance. "When you've figure out this nonsense write to me. You know where I'll be." Victoire picked up her bag from where she had thrown it to the floor and flicked her hair as she stormed from the room, the door slamming loudly behind her.

Ted led out a long sigh. He didn't follow and he couldn't watch her go. A deep breath told him her perfume was still on the air but it faded too quickly for him to really enjoy it. Probably for the best, he reminded himself bitterly. The sweet reminder of her was torture, but he missed it all the same. Would this be how life was for him now? He would be granted a taste to remind him what he was missing before it flitted from his grasp once more.

He groaned and pulled himself from the sofa. He had to get back to work.

Victoire left the shop, somewhat satisfied with the information she had learnt about Ted. She had been worried that when he hadn't contacted her this summer that he truly meant what he had said, but now she was confident that with time Ted would come around and return back to her. He was just being silly, doing that thing that Ted did where he over-thought and obsessively worried about unnecessary details. But she was sure about it, it wouldn't take him too long to realise he couldn't live without her.

Victoire always got what she wanted. This wasn't to say that she was spoilt, or mean, or in any way a cold-hearted young woman. Quite the opposite. It was more that she was goal-orientated, to the point of obsessiveness on occasion. It was part of the reason she and Ted were so good for each other, she calmed him down when he got his head in a spin and he was her anchor that stopped her when she became too focused on some impossible task. They worked.

She rarely didn't succeed. She would be persistent until she had what she wanted, whether it be exam results or convincing her boyfriend to spend the evening with her. This was how she had gotten Ted in the first place, how they had found themselves splashed across the front page of the paper at the Quidditch World Cup two years before and this was exactly how she was going to get Ted back. She had no doubt he still wanted her, this was just some silly chivalry on his part, meant to protect her from a life he thought she couldn't handle.

She could see Ted was hurting, and it pained her that he was pushing her away when he so needed her. But with the constant reminder that she still loved him it was only a matter of time. Y even armed with that knowledge, she couldn't deny that she was struggling and that she missed him, she had been relying on his support to survive the chaos that would be her final years at Hogwarts.

Time, she reminded herself.

**Thanks for reading! Please leave a review. **


	5. Equality and Justice

"No, no, no." Ron told him late in the afternoon in mid-October, projecting his voice across the quiet shop so Ted could hear him clearly. "I'm not asking what the Ministry would allow you to do, or what job you think you could get. I'm asking what you'd _like_ to do, if you could do anything."

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had received a delivery of thirty five boxes of highly explosive blast-ended skrewt tails, which needed to be moved from the front of the stop to the stockroom in the back. They were delicate, precious, and extremely volatile, George had told them, but a vital ingredient in several of their more popular products. Ted hadn't needed to know the details of what was inside, some of the ingredients used in the products were somewhat questionable and the less people who could be liable for the outcome the better.

They were levitating the boxes individually, carefully navigating it around the maze that had become the ever expanding shop floor. It took a lot of concentration, so Ted took the opportunity to think carefully about his answer for several minutes. "In a perfect world," he started, but the answer sounded silly as he said it. "I'd work with children. With the kind of kids I might have become if Harry and Ginny hadn't taken me in like they did."

Ted had thought about that often. If the circumstances had been even slightly different his life could have been significantly worse off. It would have been so easy for his Grandmother to decide that raising a young child was too difficult a task to go through again, and alone at that. Harry would have been too young and too battle-worn to take on a child at eighteen, not wanting to affect his new relationship with Ginny by forcing the idea of potential parenthood onto them both.

How different would he have been if he had been taken into care, moved from foster home to foster home, no stable family to rely on? Would Ted have become a troubled child, lost in the system, facing the full moon alone and becoming ever more bitter as he grew up. It wouldn't be hard to imagine.

It had been no secret that Andromeda had struggled when he was growing up, an aging woman left to care alone for a young child on a single wage. She wouldn't have faced judgement if she had admitted that she couldn't cope. When his Grandmother had needed support, the Potters and the Weasley's had accepted him as their own. When Andromeda had attended shifts as a Healer at St Mungo's Ted had spent his days at the Burrow, in Godric's Hollow and at Shell Cottage, every family member had worked hard to make his childhood as normal and stress-free as possible.

Ted had once been told that it takes a village to raise a child, but for him it had taken the Weasley's. Who, to be fair, there was so many of them they could quite possibly populate a small village in itself. He had gone from having only one living relative to having so many uncles and aunts that writing thank you notes at Christmas took several hours for the immediate family alone.

"But I would never be allowed near children now," he pulled a face. "Parents would find out, there would be an outrage. Just like when Dad was fired from Hogwarts."

"You don't have to work directly with the children to make the world a little better for them," George said helpfully, five steps behind him with his own box. They were halfway done, but the job was tedious and would likely take them most of the evening. "You could do charity work, raise funds or awareness or something."

It was the first idea had been suggested to him that sounded as though it could be both attainable and rewarding. The more he thought about the idea the more he liked it, there was no reason he couldn't still do good in the world without actually having to get directly involved with the people at risk. There were bound to be projects and organisations in the world desperate for assistance who wouldn't care about his background. Hermione had always talked about this charity or that organisation who were crying out for staff, little places that she was desperate to help but didn't have the time to dedicate more than a few hours at a time to.

It was through Hermione's recommendation that Ted had found himself knocking on the door of a cellar flat in muggle London. The organisation 'Equality and Rights for the Justice of Magical Creatures' had been set up after the war to fill in the gaps that the Department for Regulation of Magical Creatures claimed they didn't have the time, staff or funds to cover. Hermione had done some work for them before she settled down to start a family to improve the services provided for House Elves, but her commitments with the Law Enforcement department had meant she couldn't take on the work she wanted to as regularly as they needed.

ERJMC's main job was to allocate the sparse resources the Ministry had offered to them and supply legal aid for the creatures who found themselves in trouble. Ironically enough, the 'trouble' most found themselves in was resolving issues with the Department for Regulation of Magical Creatures, creating a circle of funding that the Ministry had yet to notice. They were consistently in trouble financially, but somehow kept afloat through private funding and grants.

On top of the legal aid and benefits, ERJMC provided tutoring and skills enhancement for those that had been failed by the education system, and, the part that Ted had been most interested in, they were also the founders of the UK branch for Lunar United. This had been a massive draw for him, a chance to work with the sufferers and families of those affected by Lycanthropy, even if he would be forced to do so from afar.

When the post for 'junior researcher and social support worker' had been advertised and broadcast to Hermione to get the word out, she had immediately thought of Ted and sent over to them a winning reference long before he had thought to send in an application form.

He had been surprised to be invited for an interview but Hermione hadn't. She had sent him down there with the promise that the pay wasn't good, the hours extremely unsociable but that the work would be rewarding. Ted didn't mind, he considered it to be a significant step in the right direction and if it got him out from under George's feet it would be a win for everyone.

The flat consisted of three rooms and a bathroom. The main room was a crowded, candlelit basement with shelves upon shelves filled with statutes, Acts and proposed Bills requested in bulk from the Ministry, all of which had been scrawled upon and edited to suit the needs of different clients. To the right side there was small room with three rows of desks and a blackboard on every wall where the tuition and mentoring classes were held. The final room, behind a locked door that held a flowery name plate, was the owner and founder of the organisations living space.

Margot was a tired woman in her fifties with brown hair cut inexpertly short and who wore ribbons and braids with countless talismans and beads around her neck and wrists. She had sat him at a dirty table with multiple cups of tea and discarded documents and parchment in busy piles on the top. She had the demeanor of a woman with not enough hours in the day to complete her task load, but who would gladly set aside an hour to listen to his lifes story had he chosen to tell her it.

"We never turn anyone away," she had told him proudly. "Even if your professional opinion tells you the case isn't valid, we give them a chance. It's not our right to decide who to pass judgement on, that's for the courts." She had pointed to newspaper cut outs that had been glued to the wall of successful cases they had defended. "We will represent anyone who asks for help and we absolutely don't descriminate."

Margot accepted his recently and lovingly written CV (it had been fairly short, with little to say except his past two summers at Weasley Wizard Wheezes and his full name and address) and a certificate for his exam results but had looked at him with a confused smile.

"With these grades you should be interning under Hermione Granger in the Law Enforcement Department, Mr. Lupin." She passed him back the parchment. "But instead she's sending us a reference. I imagine you'd be much more successful up there than with us, and she always talks about the lack of good interns."

Ted shifted in his seat and looked guility at his hands. He'd been dreading this part of the conversation, previously he had always mentioned it in his application but at no point in the form had ERJMC asked about legal or criminal restrictions. Ted produced the registry certificate that was dictating all of his life decisions and passed it to her, too ashamed to explain further.

Margot read over the document quickly. "Category three," she said, sounding almost impressed. "My, my, you don't crop up very often." She looked at him over the glasses perched on the end of her nose. "Paternal or maternal?"

"Sorry?"

She laughed softly. "You parents, which one was affected by the condition?"

"Oh." He was relieved that he wasn't forced to explain the situation further. "My father. Paternal."

She began to make notes on the desk. "Lycanthrope from birth?" she asked.

"No, bitten in childhood."

Margot frowned, reading over the certificate once more. "That _is_ unusual. Often the child of a lycanthrope who has been bitten inherits the condition. Of course it's stronger on the mother's side, but still very unlikely that it isn't passed on. Mr. Lupin you were extremely lucky."

Ted was beginning to feel a spark of hope for the first time since his meeting at the registry office. He had the opportunity to finally ask an expert on the condition all the things his family failed to inform him. Without his father present he was constantly relying on second hand information, often given to him by so-called experts who had only studied lycathropy in books, but Margot might actually be able to offer him relief.

"If I'm not a werewolf," he asked somewhat breathlessly, forgetting that he was meant to be in an interveiw. "What's the chances of my children not inheriting the condition?"

Margot hesitated. "Well...it's hard to say really. The statistics would say it's likely. It has been known to skip a generation." She smile sympathetically. "We know so little about the disease. It's an aggressive condition, most children inherit it. We have no idea why some children do not."

Ted wasn't feeling much comfort from that. When the experts couldn't even reassure him for his future Ted knew that he'd made the right decision to end his relationship with Victoire.

Margot quickly returned to the task at hand and Ted did what he could to answer the questions given to him. He had thought he had gained a lot of life experience in his eighteen years but quickly realised he had little to his name past exam results. When the questions ended Ted was given the grand tour and introduced to the staff. There were only three existing members of the charity, including Margot.

Jaric was a specialist in wizarding law who mostly dealt with the legal side of the charity and provided protection for clients who were in a sticky situation. It was Jaric who Ted would be working with most to relieve some of the strain as the needs of the charity grew and their clients increased. He had been surprised to learn how often the organisation got sued or various departments in the Ministry attempted to cut their funding or attempted to shut them down. It was Jaric who was responsible for keeping them afloat, as well as assisting in other tasks. It seemed no one had a defined role, when there was an emergency everyone pitched in.

It was Jaric who Ted found most interesting out of the team. A non-magical child born to magical parents, he lived in London with his fiance Paul, who was a muggle. "I'm just counting down the days until we're married so I can tell him," he told Ted when he'd asked. "He thinks my parents are just massive hippies who've been out of the world so long they don't know what the internet is."

Ted didn't know what a 'hippy' or the 'internet' was, but he agreed that they didn't sound very good.

The third member of their team was Holly, a previous Ministry approved interpreter who was fluent in several languages. She now used her skills to translate between the Ministry and the many under-represented creatures they dealt with every day. She was in her thirties and now despised all Ministry organised projects, including mainstream schools and he refused to send her triplets, who were about to start school, to an institution that might be Ministry run. "I would _never_ send my children to Hogwarts," she had said immediately to him when he'd mentioned he'd just graduated. "Their system is corrupt and they're minorities are under-represented. You'd never see any _non-human _students at Hogwarts."

Instead her children would be attending an independant school in the south of England with only forty students. Their focus was the study of language, divination and advancing the uses of magic by studying how other creatures had adapted without the use of a wand. There was no set curriculum, the child decided instead what they would like to study and they were given the creative guidance to do so. It wasn't a method Ted particularly agreed with, but each to their own, he guessed.

Margot herself was a passionate and caring soul and the backbone of the organisation. Her mother had been the victim of a backfired curse when she was twelve, destroying her mental health and rendering her incapacitated, and Margot been forced to drop out of school to care for her. The Ministry had offered her no support and she had studied from home, only gaining four OWLs and two NEWTs. Although her magical abilities were limited what she lacked in formal education she made up for in passion and energy.

Ted wasn't sure how he was meant to fit into such an experienced and varied team but for the first time since graduation he was feeling excited about something. As interviews went, not that Ted had any prior experience of them, it had been a relatively easy one.

The desk they had been sat at was ceremoniously cleared. Most of the piles were moved to expand other piles and the tea cups were shifted into the sink.

"Have you had many applicants?" he asked conversationally as he pulled on his cloak.

Margot laughed as Jaric smirked behind her. "You're the only one," she said, glancing over his CV once more and reading through his personal statement. "Ted, look. Are you sure you want this job?"

Ted smiled politely, trying to not to appear too eager. "I think it'd be an interesting position," he said casually, wondering secretly if it was a position he could handle. How best to communicate that he wanted the job because he was genuinely interested in the role and not because it was one of the few roles he had a chance of being offered?

Margot ushured him to the door. "Hand in your notice and come back when you can," she said, handing him a contract of employment. "We'll discuss your schedule and pay. It was lovely to meet you, Ted."

He stoped on the doorstep. "I got the job?" he asked, stunned. He thought that he'd have had to fight for the role but the whole process had been surprisingly easy.

"If you want it, it's yous." Margot said, shaking his hand. He could have hugged her if he hadn't thought it to be wholly unprofessional. "Let me know if you back out," she said as he climbed the stairs to the street. "You wouldn't be the first."

He thanked her and waved to the staff before rounding the corner to find a sheltered place to apparate to the Leaky Cauldron. He tapped his way through the wall and hurried down the street to Georges shop. It was an unusually sunny October morning and the street was busier than expected for this time of year. No doubt that George would need his help in the unpredictable surge of customers that came directly before hallowe'en.

Rushing through the doors of the shop he pulled an apologetic face at George. "I'm sorry that took so long. I'll just get my robes on and give you a hand," he called over the heads of customers as he passed him.

George dived out from behind the till and held out a hand to stop him moving. "You wait there just one second!" he said, and Ted dutifully waited as he finished serving the woman in front of the time.

"How'd you get on?" his boss asked.

Ted couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. "Fairly well. They offered me a job."

George immediately pulled him into a bear hug, an action that was somewhat humurous as Ted towered above him by about a foot. "That's such great news Teddy." he patted him on the back and let him go. "When do you start?"

Ted shrugged. "How much notice do you need?"

"Ted you're fired."

"Tell me about Paul."

They were sitting at Jarics desk familiarising Ted with the legal system by studying the cases he was currently working on. It was the friday afternoon of Teds first week and the drop-in advice session they were hosting was particuarly slow. Only Holly had a regular client in for turoring. The afternoon was dragging but it was a welcome break from how busy they had been during the week, and a welcome release from the whirlwind of information that came with starting a new job.

They had been catching up on the paperwork they'd resisted doing throughout the week but as it approached four o'clock they became increasinly unmotivated and had begun to chat instead. Ted was intrigued by his colleague and hd a million questions he wanted to ask about living life as a muggle, and what it was like to date one. What did they do for Christmas? Had Jaric ever slipped up and revealed the wizarding world at any point? What did they do on their evenings off together if they couldn't listen to Quidditch on the radio?

Jarics eyes lit up and his near constant smile had grown wider. "You'd love him," he said. "Everyone loves him, and he's gorgeous. He's just wonderful!"

He pulled out a photo of him from his wallet. Ted stared at it for a few seconds before releasiing it wasn't going to move and he poked at it experimentally to see if it would. He could agree that Paul was in fact a very handsome man, dark hair and eyes and like Jaric he seemed to smile easily. Ted passed the photo back to him with a grin. "You're right, he's very handsome. What does he do?"

"He's a structural engineer." When Ted had given him a blank look, Jaric explained slowly, "It's to do with bridges and buildings and how muggle things stay up without magic. I think. I sort of zone out a little when he talks about work."

It was all very fascinating and confusing. Ted had never considered how their giant buildings stayed up, he always assumed that magic was involved somehow. "And he doesn't know a thing about the magical world?"

Jaric shrugged. "It's not as difficult as it sounds, I'm a squib so-" at Margots glare, he had rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. I'm a 'non-magical child of magical parents'." He said it loudly and obviously for her benefit. "Mine is shorter to say." He winked at Ted. "I think it'd be harder if I was able to use magic, but because I can't I'd already had to learn to do a lot of things the muggle way. Dating a muggle was just the next logical step." He laughed. "Paul thinks I have a really boring job processing applications at the tax office. It's good because it sounds so dull that he nearly never asks about it. But that's going to be an awkward conversation when he learns I actually mentor werewolves and go to wizard court every other week."

Ted asked in a tone that he hoped came across as casual and non-offensive, "do your parents mind that you're dating a muggle?

Jaric shook his head. "They were confused at first. They weren't sure why I was attracted to the idea of it, they wanted me to settle down with a magical person and have lots of babies." He pulled a face. "But then they never quite understood who I was attracted to anyway."

When Ted had hesitated to ask a follow up question, Jaric had said "You can ask, you know, I won't be offended. I'll talk about it."

_All right then_. "Were you born a squib?"

Jaric laughed like it wasn't the question he had been expecting. Ted was confused. "No, I suffered trauma as a child and lost my magic."

He said it so passively that Ted nearly missed him saying it altogether. Not sure if he was kidding or not, he stared at him for a long moment. "That can happen?"

Jaric shrugged. "It did to me."

Ted didn't ask what the trauma event was that caused Jaric to lose his magic, and Jaric didn't elaborate and tell him. He thought of all the awful things his Godfather and the Weasleys, amongst others, had been through during the war and the scars they still carried from it. Harry still said that he still occaisionally woke up in the night convinced he was being hunted by some unseen threat and every year marked another anniversary of those that had been lost. It never quite got any easier. Whatever it was that Jaric had been through it must have been awful to traumatise him enough that he could no longer use magic.

Jaric began to flick elastic bands across the office towards Hollys desk, aiming for a mug that had not moved in the week that Ted had been there. She ignored him, they had all learnt that encouraging him with their mild annoyance would only make it worse. "How about you, Ted, any lovely ladies on the scene?"

His stomach gave a lurch. "Um...There was."

Jaric frowned. "Right. Sorry."

"No, it's okay." Ted reorganised the papers on his desk, just for the sake of doing something with his hands. Suddenly he felt like telling him, as someone who didn't know Ted's past and didn't know Victoire at all it would be good to get confirmation that he had done the right thing. "It happened after I registered," he explained.

Jaric sucked in a breath. "Ah, mate. That's cold. She couldn't handle the stigma?"

"No, I broke it off." He suddenly felt foolish for admitting himself when he was surrounded by people who saw lycanthropy as no worse than any other condition. Ted looked at the papers he had been organising. "I thought she could do better."

There was an angry tap as Margot threw down her quill and glared at him. Jaric too was shaking his head, looking disappointed. "You might want to save that story for the motivational speech at the start of our next support group," he drawled. "It'd go down a treat."

He shouldn't have said anything. Ted couldn't justify it to his colleagues but he felt his reasons still stood. He repeated them to himself like a mantra, a code to live by, to remind himself the pain he was feeling was justified: no matter how much he succeeded in his job he would still never earn a decent living. And even if he did she would still have to live with the stigma of the registry. They could never get married, it would never be recognised legally. And he could never give her children.

"You're a prat." Jaric concluded, but there was no nastiness in his tone. Ted had a tendency to agree with him. "And it's over? _Over_ over?"

Ted nodded. "_Over_ over," he said, his stomach cold as he said it. _It's for the best it's for the best it's for the best..._

Jaric pulled a face, his smile gone completely. "Nevermind" he said with the air of someone who regretted asking the question. "You're a good looking guy, you could find someone else. Plenty of single ladies out there, and although the job doesn't pay good they really like legal representatives, apparently."

Was he good looking? He'd never considered himself to be very much of anything, least of all good looking. Besides, Ted couldn't think of a future with someone else. He was struggling enough with a future without Victoire. Ted shook his head, "the same reasons would still stand. It wasn't about Vicky. It was all my problem."

Margot rolled her eyes obviously. She reminded him of Hermione, not least because she was dedicated to the cause and she had the 'you're an idiot' look down. "Well you're quite the martyr, aren't you Ted?" What could he say to that? She continued without his response regardless. "If this girl chooses to spend her life with you, who are you to tell her no?"

He wanted to believe it, but Ted reminded himself that she wasn't in his position and Margot couldn't know what he was going through. It was easy to say "true love conquers all" until you were the one forcing your girlfriend into a life of stigma and solitude. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. What the hell had his father been thinking inviting his mother into a life like that? He could only believe the threat of war had swayed their otherwise level heads. They had been lucky that Ted hadn't inherited the condition, but how could he guarantee the same for his own children?

Yet he hesitantly admitted that Jaric had a valid point. What would his clients think when, week on week, he stood in front of the support group and told them that each and every one of them was deserving of love? He wasn't lying when he told them those things, he genuinely believed it. So why couldn't he accept those things for himself?

_Because none of those people would be hurting Victoire_.


	6. Preparing for court

Ted's first six weeks of working at Equality and Justice for Magical Creatures was a confusing and unstructured blur. He wasn't entirely sure what his role was, it seemed to change every day. The timetable for his schedule was extremely loose and mostly run around the support groups that were held several times a week and the drop-in crisis support service in the afternoons.

Ted had been offered two groups, _Lunar United_, for wizard and witches affected by Lycanthropy, and _Werewolves against Postmen_, for the small group of muggles who were afflicted with the disease and sworn to secrecy regarding their condition but who were otherwise oblivious to the magical world. Jaric had assured him that the name was a joke, a play on words the muggle group had come up with on their own, but Ted didn't get it.

Otherwise his job had no specific role. He held multiple classes where he tutored folk of all ages and backgrounds in subjects he was barely qualified to understand, nevermind teach, and held the afternoon drop in crisis support sessions several times a week with his colleagues. That had been a shock all in itself. How could he, at eighteen years of age, offer advice to people twice his age and in situations he could never imagine in his otherwise privileged state? He had barely got his own budget and money together, yet he was constantly drawing up financial plans for clients and advising clients on the law, not to mention the continuous stream of wizards and witches who approached the service for counselling and support when their lives had gone to crap in a cauldron.

Ted was still learning about his job every day, and rarely a week went by that a new task popped up that he didn't feel qualified to handle. The biggest shock by far, however, had been in late November when Jaric emerged from the tiny bathroom in his finest wrinkled robes and announced cheerily: "I'm off to court."

He had said it so easily, as though it was such an everyday thing to say that Ted had looked up from studying the Statute of Secrecy Act (1543) in surprise. He had been consulting the document to check which laws his client had broken when he had flashed both of his wands, literal and metaphorical, at a muggle woman when he had been out walking his dog on the Yorkshire Moors. Ted had been given the job of preparing his defense statement for the upcoming tribunal.

Ted assumed that, because the statement hadn't seemed to shock anyone else, it was a normal occurrence for them all. He knew that Jaric acted as the organization's defense when they were challenged, but had never assumed he would be the one acting in court for the clients who sought advice. "Why are you going to court?" he asked.

Jaric straightened his collar in the tiny mirror next to the door and flattened his hair. It didn't help much, his manner was still too relaxed, too casual, to be taken seriously. "There's a warlock who couldn't afford legal representation, so I'm going instead."

"Like as a lawyer?"

Jaric smiled cheekily. ""Sort-of but not quite. More of a….supporter." He clarified, "with a text book."

The fact that he might have to represent someone in court when he had no legal training whatsoever and armed only with a second-hand and out of date legal textbook terrified Ted. What good would he do for another person in court? He was hardly the most persuasive person and as a whole he disliked confrontation and being the the center of attention in any sense. Arguing with a fully trained lawyer in front of a judge was about as confrontational as you could get without adding a wand duel to the situation.

A wand duel he might actually have a chance of winning.

Ted naively held onto the hope that because he was young and particularly inexperienced that Margot would not be foolish enough to place him in that situation. Yet as luck would have it the task came up much sooner than he had anticipated.

Mid-November the Wizengamot announced a court hearing for a young lad that Ted had been mentoring to improve his social skills. Cian, a six year old cheeky boy with a demeanor that could only be described as 'lacking in all inhibitions', had inherited Lycanthropy from his mother at birth. A few weeks before his mother, who was suffering badly from the full moons effects a few days later and unable to cope with a young child, had left the boy under the care of his uncle. Cian, feeling the effects himself and greatly agitated, had lashed out at his uncle and bitten him on the shoulder when he had been told to go to bed.

What most relatives would dismiss as a child simply throwing a tantrum, as children that age are prone to do, his uncle had instead reported his behaviour to the Ministry and claimed that he had been viciously attacked. He had gone so far to request a check for several diseases, implying that the child and his mother were riddled with several contagious conditions, but so far his blood tests had come back negative and the wound had healed nicely with no stitches or intervention necessary.

Ted had been called in to 'straighten the child up' - the Ministry's words, not his- and teach him the discipline his mother had apparently failed to do. He had been working with Cian twice a week since the beginning of November and found the boy to be charming, if somewhat hyperactive, but had not yet witnessed any challenging behaviour. Cian instead reminded him of James and Albus at that age and apart from the brief and chaotic window at the full moon he was no different to any other excited little boy.

Ted's own experience at the full moon had not been dissimilar to Cian's. He too had experienced the confusion of mood swings and unexplained, never quite consistent, responses to the lunar cycle. His symptoms had been recorded, mapped and charted, but there was rarely any correlation or visible pattern. Mix that with the chaos that comes with any magical child growing up and it meant that a child suffering with the effects of lycanthropy struggled to make friends and experience the typical childhood a 'normal' little boy should have.

Through Cian's mentoring sessions Ted had developed a whole new respect for his Grandmother and Harry. Between them they had lovingly and patiently provided him the best childhood possible, and it was only now that Ted realised just how difficult that must have been. Not to mention Victoire, his most present friend growing up, had often been the target of his frustrations. That she had stuck with him and maintained such a strong friendship baffled him completely, and that she had then pursued a romantic relationship with him was beyond logical.

Ted felt guilty at that. It seemed that no matter what point in his life he was at he was always hurting her needlessly.

He had been given a meagre three days to prepare Cian's defence to the court, which, Margot had assured him, was considered to be rather generous. Previously the Ministry had been known to give them as little as four hours for much higher profile cases than this one. Ted had been determined, he had worked night and day to cover all possible angles and ensure Cian's clean record. He researched past reports and case studies and knew by heart the laws that applied, both to prosecute and defend Cian.

Despite fully knowing that he had prepared himself for every eventuality, the night before the tribunal was due and when the words began to blur together on the page and became meaningless, Ted knew he wanted to get it checked out with the very best.

His colleagues were already harassed and busy enough on their own cases for Ted to bother them further. But he was lucky, he had access to the finest magical law expert at the Ministry. Ted knew that Hermione would be thrilled to assist him, after all she had been so eager that he take the job in the first place. He had grown up listening to her accounts of minor cases and their barely significant victories, but she had spoken about them with such pride that he knew she missed representing the more intimate cases. It was in these trials, Hermione had often said, that the qualities of justice and equality were really put to the test.

Ted arrived at Hermione and Ron's terrace house in the outskirts of Oxford unannounced. He hated to just turn up on their doorstep without prior warning but he had run out of time and was beginning to panic. The hearing was the following morning. He apparated into their back garden under the cover of a large walnut tree, and rapped loudly on the back door, bouncing from foot to foot as he did so to keep warm. What would he do if they weren't in?

After a long moment there was shuffling in the hallway behind the door and Ron appeared, better dressed than he would normally be for a night in with the wife and kids. Ted began to apologize for disturbing them, but Ron ushered him in regardless. He had always been welcome at their home.

Ted was led through the comfortable house and into the kitchen. Hermione was sat with Rose and Hugo at the large wooden table. She alternated between spelling out words for her son, who was reading aloud from a childrens book meant for a child far more advanced than his age, and peeling potatoes.

He'd always admired that quality about her, and about all of the Weasley's really. Ted could bet that Hermione's day had not been an easy one, as the deputy head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement her job was challenging, stressful and the hours were extremely long. Yet she still found the time and energy to sit with her children and read.

Seeing him, her face turned to worry. "Teddy, what's happened?"

He should have written ahead, he chastised himself. Of course Hermione was bound to think something awful had happened, the last time she had seen him he had been slumped in her office on the downside of a panic attack whilst his life was falling to pieces.

He smiled, reassuringly he hoped. "Nothing has happened. I was looking for some advice, but I can see you're busy-"

"Nonsense, sit." She rose from the table and pointed her wand at the kettle. Steam rose immediately from the spout. She filled a teapot and set it in front of him with a cup.

Ted took the offered seat. After saying hello to the children he explained Cian's situation to Hermione and passed her the sheafs of notes he had made. She took them gladly, and he was suddenly reminded of a time when he had asked her to check over his homework for his OWL and NEWT exams.

Ted took over where she had left off and prompted Hugo to read, sounding the words slowly for him when he was stuck and pulling the pot of potatoes towards him. He had done a similar activity with Cian earlier that week.

Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang and Ron jumped up to answer it. There were voices and movement in the hallway and Ron entered carrying a bottle of wine, followed Bill and Fleur. Ted's stomach dropped. He should have called ahead, he thought, blind panic ripping through him.

Hermione was too involved in reading the documents to notice their arrival. Ted began, "I've caught you at a bad time, I should go…" but she held up a stern finger to shush him.

Bill gave a genuine smile. He said "Teddy! Long time no see," as Fleur swooped to kiss both his cheeks and he blushed quickly, more from the act of being caught imposing on a Weasley household than the affection that might be implied. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your dinner party," he said quickly, trying to let them know without being rude that he would be leaving as quick as possible. "I'm just picking Hermione's brain over something."

To his horror the couple sat opposite him at the table. Bill uncorked the wine and poured each of them a glass. Ted declined politely. "That's right," Bill said, "Harry said you'd started a new job. How's that going?"

What could Ted say about his new job? It would never have been a career he'd have considered pre-registration, and he was still settling into the role. Yet the role felt right. He was working in a field he'd considered to be far out of his reach and despite never previously having an interest in law he had always been fascinated and outraged by the way werewolves were treated in society. Until now he had never considered that there was such a strong link between the two. If nothing else, Ted knew that when he woke up in the morning he would go on to do some good that day, if even just to make a small boy with a horrible condition smile.

He thought about the long hours, the terrible pay, the often thankless job…

"I love it," he admitted. It felt good to say. Ted had at first been embarrassed by his job. When acquaintances or family asked him what he was doing with his life most had been outwardly shocked and confused. To anyone outside the Weasley's he refrained from explaining that he was now a category three lycanthrope, as so few people understood what this meant outright and automatically assumed that he was some sort of threat. Ted allowed them to think that he was simply pursuing a philanthropist and alternative lifestyle before deciding for sure to pursue what was considered a more 'professional' career.

Bill appeared shocked by his answer. "It's good to see you…" he considered his words. Bill, like most of the Weasley's, had probably heard how down and negative Ted had become since the registration. "...So relaxed," he decided. "I think that this job is a perfect fit for you, you get to use your intelligence and you've always been a very passionate young man. It'd be a shame not to put those outstanding NEWTs to good use. And…" Bill hesitated. "Teddy, your father would be thrilled. He'd be so proud of you."

Ted nodded, suddenly feeling quite emotional. In order to avoid looking at Bill further he instead watched Hermione scratching her quill across the parchment, underlining and editing the notes he had made. Ted wasn't sure whether to be relieved that she was correcting his potentially disastrous errors or horrified that she could so easily find so many gaps in his work.

As Hermione worked Bill and Fleur continued to ask him questions about his job and the knowledge he'd gained about lycanthropy since starting at the organisation. He seemed impressed. It was only when Ted began to talk about the lifestyle changes he had been making to alleviate the symptoms he had around the full moon that Bill stopped him.

"No meat," he repeated, as though Ted had told him to stop eating food altogether. "For how long before the moon?"

Ted laughed. "All month!" He thought of the sickness he had experienced since Holly had convinced him to try the new diet. The initial withdrawal had been awful, he had mistakenly believed that he had the flu for a full week before Margot explained what was happening to him. "It's awful," he said, "your body rejects it the full week up to the Moon. But then you start to feel better. And then really good. It's like a drug."

Ted was sure that Bill was imagining the same scene he was - that the three nights before the Moon shone the only food he would crave was red meat. Specifically, steak, the rarer the better. In a moment of crisis Ted had been known to eat it raw.

Bill shook his head firmly. "And you're trying this?"

Ted nodded, trying to make it sound better than it actually was in a bid to get Bill to try it. He had been told the subsequent Moons would be significantly better. "I'm only on the first month," he explained. "But it's pretty brutal. You need to stick it out, or it loses its effect. Apparently after about three or four months you don't get the same anxiety or symptoms you did before, it's something to do with the blood in the meat that affects the condition badly."

At the mere mention of the Moon the scars on Ted's forearms began to itch. He thought of Cian who had bitten and gnawed so hard on his hands the month before they had glimpsed bone. Ted had advised his mother to tape thick woollen mittens on his hands at night, a practice his grandmother and Harry had implemented when he was too young to understand what was happening to him and had lacked the self-control needed to resist the urge. He had suggested the dietary changes to Cians mother but she had politely declined. Ted didn't blame her, at the moons peak meat was the only thing that could soothe the fire inside.

"If I had to give up meat, I'd just be a disaster" Bill smiled at his wife. "A divorce would absolutely be in order."

Ted laughed, but he knew that Bill had never experience the same distress or anxiety that he had. Whilst Bill became somewhat grouchy, Ted was an emotional wreck. When Bill became unmotivated, Ted would become so depressed he couldn't leave bed. It was the reason he, as a previously very calm and good-natured student, punched a lad two years older than him in his fourth year because he told him he looked 'peaky'. "I don't think I'm particularly nice to be around whilst this transition occurs," he admitted.

"Eet is not natural," Fleur told him flippantly. "In France we don't have any of this _vegetarianism_." She said the word like it was something disgusting she had found on the bottom of her shoe. Ted thought the same about eating snails but didn't feel it would help their opinion of him to criticize her otherwise excellent cooking.

"I can't exactly preach to my support group about easing the effects of the Moon if I'm not prepared to test drive the methods myself," Ted told them both. "Some things work, some things don't. It does vary between people but the no-meat thing is a pretty popular method." He scrunched up his nose. "We've tried loads. We held a yoga session last month, that was a complete disaster."

Hermione looked up from the papers and appeared visibly shocked that she had company. Ron poured her a glass of wine whilst he had her attention and she drank deeply, surveying the notes she had made. Ted outwardly cringed at the neatly written words underlying his messy scrawl.

"It looks great," she said, and he felt some temporary relief. "But don't get cocky." She pointed to a paragraph she had circled several times. "Don't bring up arguments they haven't raised. It's like giving them ammunition." She passed him the parchment, he could see that her neat writing had added laws and arguments to nearly every point he had made. "But you've made a solid case, you should be very proud of yourself."

He felt a little as though he was getting an essay back from a professor, but at least she hadn't patronised him in front of Victoire's parents. That was exactly how he imagined his time in court would feel like, him the silly child stood in front of the wiser, more experienced adult. Even if he was fully prepared what chance did he stand really? Ted stood, pushing the papers into his bag. "Thanks so much Hermione. I really appreciate your help."

"Anytime Ted. Can we convince you to stay for a drink?"

He glanced around at the company in the kitchen and shook his head, politely he hoped. "No, I'm going to get a good nights sleep for tomorrow. But thanks."

He waved to the children and made his way to the door. As he climbed the step into the hall Bill, who was closest to the door, held out his hand to stop him. The man paused, considering what to tell him. Ted waited patiently, but he could see the front door from where he was standing. So close.

"You're a good man, Ted." Bill eventually managed.

This was by far the closest to a compliment Bill had given him since Ted had started dating his daughter. He supposed it was only right that he would begin to recognise his worth once he had _stopped_ dating Victoire. But how exactly was Ted supposed to take that? Was he a good man because he had allowed Victoire freedom from his bleak future? Or was he a good man in spite of the pain he had caused her?

Ted could think of nothing to say to Bill in return. He nodded tightly instead, and as Bill had removed his hand he moved past them silently. As the front door was closing behind him, he heard Fleur yell to him, "and write to Victoire! She ees worried!"

He didn't respond, pretending instead that he hadn't heard her.

Ted's time in court had been surprisingly short. From the stories he had heard he expected to be stood in front of the wizengamot, passionately defending his case as the sole defender of justice for his client. Instead the judge had been sympathetic from the start and dismissed the case almost immediately.

He was both thrilled and a little disappointed. He thought grumpily that the judge could have at least given him his moment and heard his passionate speech. The hours upon hours of preparation and research had not been put to use, and he had only been allowed to read his opening paragraph before he had been stopped.

Nevertheless, Ted returned to the office to a hero's welcome and had the pleasure of telling Cian and his mother that he would not be facing any fine or punishment for his behaviour. With the exception of his name on the lycanthrope registry Cian had an otherwise squeaky clean record. They had hugged him and given him homemade scones as thanks and he had shared the cakes out amongst his colleagues in victory.

Yet the wind-down from his first real triumph against injustice was a hollow one. After the initial thrill of their reaction it was back to work as usual and Ted was back to the grindstone with another case, a werewolf who had approached the organisation that morning because he was refusing to accept the Ministry regulated wolfsbane in favour of brewing his own weaker concoction.

Ted surprised himself with his enthusiasm for the next opportunity to prove himself. His small victory had felt good and he promised himself that he would no longer shy away from the difficult cases, he would volunteer for the next case available and expand his knowledge. Like his subjects at Hogwarts, Ted would throw himself into his studies. He would master law like he had mastered every other academic challenge thrown his way.

That night Ted had floo'd home to his grandmother's in good spirits and excitedly told her that her grandson was amazing.

"I already knew that," she said amused, but hugged him nonetheless.

Andromeda was forced to leave for her night shift at St Mungo's shortly after he returned home, and the house felt empty compared to the busy office he was used to during the day. It was a cold night, but he cast a heating spell and sat in the garden with a beer from the fridge and watched the night sky. It was clear, and he could see every star in the sky above him.

Victoire would have celebrated with him, he reflected. She'd have crowed about it for days and told every person she came across. "My boyfriend, the big lawyer," he imagined her saying. "Fighting for the little guy." He was certain she'd have said that. And then she would have kissed him.

It was the moments such as this in which he particularly missed her. When all his social interaction was with his colleagues or Harry, he missed having a life and world outside of his day job. When he had been at Hogwarts he had always been surrounded by people, he had been forced to make a conscious effort to avoid them at times when he needed isolation from the crowds. But in the adult world Ted felt lonely and lost. There was no guidance out here, no professor to lead him down the right track or suggest alternative options when he was struggling. Ted was fully responsible for his own career, his own finances, his own isolation.

Victoire pushed him, she always had. She would make sure that he was joining in and having a good time. Had she been here with him right now there was no doubt they would be at some pub or meeting, drink in hand. She loved social situations, meeting new people and experiencing new things. Whilst Ted was happy to watch from the sidelines, she would be in the thick of it, knowing that eventually he would follow her and be better for it.

Ted considered Fleur's comment from the night before. She had said that Victoire was worried about him. But he knew that, she had told him so herself during the summer. So why was he so affected by it? Perhaps it was that she had talked to her parents about him. Victoire wouldn't have told her parents this if she was actually angry at him. Maybe it was that Fleur had mentioned the fact to him, like only Ted himself could reassure their daughter of his success.

She had told him to write to Victoire. She wouldn't have said that if there was any resentment on her part, and Bill had been outright friendly towards him.

Ted considered the idea, dismissed it, and then considered it again. Would making contact with her just be torture for them both? Should he re-open the old wound and potentially cause her more hurt by trying to be friends? It felt too soon, there was no chance he could be around her yet without treating her the way he had in the past. You couldn't unlearn behaviour that had been building up for over two years.

Ted didn't want to be the guy who kept his ex-girlfriend on the hook for him. If Victoire was ever to have the chance of moving on from him he needed to maintain his promise of no connection, at least for the time being until he had a chance to see that she was okay.

Christmas was approaching, he concluded with mixed emotions. No doubt he would see her then and he could test the waters. With any luck she'd have moved on from him enough to have her back in his life.


End file.
